Keep Calm and Carry On
by FreeSpiritSeeker
Summary: It's every fangirl's daydream to wake up in the bed of their crush. But when it really happens, what would you really do? Poor Jayne is about to find out when the Sherlock fangirl wakes up in the bed of none other than Sherlock Holmes!
1. Chapter 1

Sunday, as usual for twenty-nine year old Jayne, flew by in the small two-bedroom apartment she shared with her best friend and roommate Shirley. She'd gotten ready for work the next day, with her copy of season one of the hit BBC show SHERLOCK playing on her tv. She listed and half-watched it while she read a fan fiction, giggling at the scrapes Sherlock Holmes and his colleague John Watson, an army doctor got themselves into. On the screen right now, Sherlock and a young man named Raz were running from two cops, John left holding a can of spray paint in front of a defaced wall.

Jayne stretched and tried to make herself relax. Tomorrow was going to be a very long day, and very busy as well, with two reviews and a business meeting with a new manager that she was not looking forward to. She looked up to double-check that her favorite plum-colored skirt suit was hanging on the back of her door before closing the lid on her laptop and turning off the tv. She laid back on the bed, smiling at remembering one of the funnier moments in the fan fiction she'd just been reading.

She had to admit, she and Shirley were insatiable about Sherlock, collecting memorabilia, even having one of Shirley's British pen pals send them pieces of rock from the river bed where part of The Great Game had been filmed. Jayne's piece was currently on the bookshelf-style headboard of her bed, along with her Sherlock deerstalker hat, magnifying glass, framed autographs from Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman and leather bound copies of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's famous books about the famed detective Sherlock Holmes.

Jayne let her eyes close as she thought about what life with the real Sherlock would be like. Difficult, she was sure. She honestly couldn't imagine walling herself off from her emotions, she loved the people around her in her life too much, she thought as she drifted off to sleep.

She woke to voices. Familiar voices. She groaned when she realized Shirley must have come into her room and started watching an episode of Sherlock before work. "Shirley, I know you love Sherlock as much as I do, but couldn't you wait until I was awake?" Jayne mumbled, half into the pillow.

"Did she just call you Sherly? How did she get there, though, Sherlock?" John Watson's voice sounded loud in the room. "That is the question, isn't it, Watson. Not there one moment and appearing the next. And why in my bed, of all places?" Sherlock's smooth voice echoed in the room.

"Dammit, Shirley, I'm tired, go away! Turn the tv off, you can watch it later. "Jayne shouted, throwing a pillow at her friend. She smiled when she heard a thud and an "Ow. Did she just throw a pillow at me?" Sherlock's voice said, sounding awfully loud from the television.

_Wait a minute_, Jayne thought, _that's not how any of the episodes of season one go_. She jerked up when Shirley poked her, and grabbed her in a headlock, throwing her down on the bed beside her, as she often had when they'd wrestled as kids. Before Jayne could get Shirley more than half over her, Jayne suddenly noticed that Shirley seemed to have gotten taller, thinner and stronger, because she was suddenly pinned by her arms to the bed. And staring up into a pair of strange blue-gray-green eyes.

Jayne's eyes nearly bugged out of her head before she let out an eardrum splitting scream, throwing herself away from him and landing in a heap beside the bed, pushing herself into a corner as she stared at the very familiar face and eyes of Sherlock Holmes. She didn't realize she was still screaming until he shouted at her. "Do you think you could stop that, you're annoying me."

Jayne's mouth immediately snapped shut, her eyes welled with tears and she started shaking. "oh my god…It's finally happened. I've lost my mind!" she wailed. The distinct sound of a laugh had her looking up at him. Her mood shifted into anger. "Don't you laugh at me, Sherlock Holmes! You're just a figment of my delusional imagination, you're not allowed to laugh at me!" She threw another pillow at him, surprising him and catching him a little off guard.

"Lestrade's on his way. So's Mycroft." John Watson said from the doorway. He noticed how pale the girl was and that tremors wracked her body. He slowly stepped closer to Jayne, crouching down, his hands outstretched to show that he didn't have any weapons. "It's ok. Hey, it's going to be ok. Some nice men are coming who will help you."

She glared at him. "Oh yes, Detective Inspector Lestrade and Mycroft Holmes are really going to help me. Are you insane, too? They're going to lock me up in some mental ward and throw away the key!" She started crying again.

"John, what do you observe about this young lady?" Sherlock asked John, looking at Jayne in a way that she knew meant he was analyzing everything about her. "Not now, Sherlock. It's obvious the poor girl has suffered some kind of mental shock and has lost her wits." Once again, Jayne's moods switched to instant anger.

"Stop talking about me like I'm not even here! You may be figments of my damaged psyche, but you don't have to be rude!" Sherlock sighed at her bipolar moods.

"Look at her, John. She's dressed in pajamas. She has no shoes on, no slippers, nothing. Her accent. American. Southern United States, probably South Carolina from the cadence." He was cut off from going any further when Mrs. Hudson suddenly appeared in the doorway. "What is all the screaming in here?" she demanded to know.

Then she caught sight of Jayne sprawled beside the bed, tears still falling down her cheeks. "Sherlock! What have you done to the poor girl?" This made Jayne cry all the harder. "Oh," she whimpered aloud, "let's add another person to my new imaginary friends!"

John tried to explain, "We don't know who she is Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock's trying to figure that out."

"Oh, the poor dear," said Mrs. Hudson. She looked over at the girl, who was obviously in some kind of panic. "How about I fix you a nice cuppa, dear?" She smiled when the girl nodded. "Two sugars, please, Mrs. Hudson?" Jayne asked politely. The older woman looked surprised that the girl knew her name, but nodded and headed for the kitchen.

"Would you be more comfortable waiting in the living room?" John asked softly. Sniffling, Jayne nodded and took John's proffered hand. He led her to the living room as Sherlock watched before walking behind them. Jayne knew that he was cataloging every single piece of information there was to find out about her from her clothing, hairstyle, anything that would give him clues as to her origins.

Sherlock sat in his chair, John on the couch and Jayne in John's chair, smiling when she saw the familiar Union Jack pillow propped against the back. She pulled it from the chair, setting it in her lap where her hands unconsciously slid over the soft material. "John, why don't you loan her your dressing gown, she seems a bit chilled." Sherlock ordered.

John's head shot up. "Mine? What? Why not yours?"

"Because I'm obviously too big for his. Besides that, he's currently wearing his, you are dressed." Jayne answered for him, causing Sherlock's head to snap her way. John brought her the robe and she wrapped it around herself. Jayne sat silenty, staring down at the pillow in her lap until Mrs. Hudson came from the kitchen with a tray of tea cups filled with hot, steaming tea. As Mrs. Hudson handed Jayne the teacup, there was a knock at the door.

Sherlock observed that Jayne's knuckles went white around the handle of the cup, her eyes became filled with fear and her eyes widened considerably. "Open up, Freak. It's me," came a voice that Jayne was quick to recognize and almost growled. Sherlock was definitely surprised, he looked at her as he skirted her chair and opened the door to find two of the people he wanted to possibly see worst in the world.

Sergeant Sally Donovan and crime tech Anderson stood at his doorway. Sally pushed right past him, nudging his shoulder hard. It was all Jayne could do not to throw her teacup at Donovan. "Oh my god…" Sherlock heard Jayne whimper.

"Hello dearie. I'm Sally. What's your name?" Donovan crouched down in front of Jayne, speaking to her like Jayne was a three year old. Jayne clamped her lips shut, afraid of what she'd say if Donovan continued. "Do you know your name, dear?"

"Of course I know my name. My name's Jayne. Jayne Alexis Wyler." Jayne spat at her. Anderson chuckled and looked at Sherlock. "Boss said you were having woman trouble."

"You'll be the one in trouble, Anderson, when your wife finds out you're sleeping with Sergeant Donovan over here. Does your wife know you spent the night in _her_ bed with Sergeant Donovan, Anderson?" Jayne asked him, furious for Sherlock's sake. These two made his life hell. Anderson and Donovan both looked shell shocked.

"What have you been telling her, Freak?" Donovan stood and glared at Sherlock. Jayne stood and punched Donovan in the arm, hard. "Don't call him a freak. He's not a freak. Do you understand me? He. Is. Not. A. Freak!"

"I could have you arrested for that you know!" Donovan tried to intimidate her.

"Arrest me for what? Punching someone who only exists in my imagination?" Jayne asked. Everyone in the room gave her kind of a weird look. "Right, because I all of a sudden appeared in the middle of the room, of a tv show, based on a work of fiction!"

"It would appear so, my dear." Said a voice from the doorway. Jayne took one glance and slid bonelessly into the chair she'd occupied only a moment before. Mycroft Holmes stood in the doorway, leaning on his umbrella. _The shit just got real_. Jayne thought. Two young men dressed smartly in suits of the same shade of black stood just behind him as he entered the room. Body guards or agents of some kind, her still half-aware brain catalogued them.

"If you'll come with me, Miss Jayne Wyler, I'm certain we can sort this all out. We'll start with letting Anderson here take some blood work for tests, and go from there." Mycroft said, quite reasonable he thought.

"That man is not touching me!" Jayne shouted, pointing at the smarmy little man.

"I could always hold you down so he can," Donovan put in.

"You and what army?" Jayne said, her anger getting the better of her. "Dear God, I'm surrounded by a bitch, (Donovan) an incompetent (Anderson), the British Government for all intents and purposes (Mycroft), the world's only consulting detective and his sidekick! And you're all fictional characters!"

They all looked at her like she was crazy, except for Sherlock. Sherlock was simply watching her, his eyes intense as she made her own observations. He'd felt a strange feeling flood through him when Jayne had defended him to Donovan. No one had ever done that before. Usually they'd joined in on calling him a freak and other, less inventive names. He nearly laughed when he heard John mutter, "Sidekick?"

Mycroft surprised everyone by walking into the flat and sitting down on the sofa, staring at Jayne. He leaned forward a little on his umbrella as he spoke. "Very well, Miss Wyler, Agent Anderson will not touch you." Feeling a little more reasonable now, Jayne sat down, surrounded by characters she'd only ever daydreamed about. Mycroft continued, "Is there anyone you would trust to take some blood, check you over?"

Jayne thought about it for a moment before the perfect person popped into her head. "Molly Hooper." She smiled as she spoke the name. She'd always like Molly's character, even if she did think Molly tried too hard to try and get Sherlock's attention. But she thought the quiet, kind woman was just what she needed in the midst of this chaos.

"The pathologist at St. Barts?" He asked. Jayne smiled and nodded. Mycroft nodded to his one of the young men who sent a quick text. _Probably sending "Anthea" off to get Molly_, Jayne thought. _I sure hope it isn't her day off and they get her out of bed._

"Now, while we wait, is there anything you'd like to tell us?" Mycroft asked, looking at her expectantly. _Probably waiting on me to tell him what drug I'm on_, Jayne thought sadly.

"I don't know how I got here. One minute I was laying down for bed, because I have to work in the morning. Had to work in the morning," she corrected, as it was now seven or eight hours later than it had been when she'd laid down on her own bed, in her own room, in her own apartment, in her own reality. Mycroft waited for her to continue, and Jayne sensed rather than saw Anderson, Donovan, John and Mrs. Hudson milling around the room. Sherlock just sat in his chair, staring intently at her.

She lowered her eyes, staring at a burn spot in the floor. She wondered which of Sherlock's experiments had caused that one.

"Well, if we're not needed, we're leaving." Donovan suddenly stated, heading for the door. "And you'll say nothing of this young woman's appearance to anyone. Is that understood?" Mycroft Holmes ordered.

Looking furious, Donovan nodded before breezing out the door, Anderson trailing after her like a lost puppy. "As always, pleasant to see you, Donovan," Jayne whispered, causing John to choke on a laugh. Jayne looked up at the others, finally settling her gaze on Sherlock's face. "So where do we go from here?"


	2. Chapter 2

John groaned when Sherlock's reply was, "Since I currently have nothing of interest in the world of missing cats, cheating husbands and wives or the like, my new case is you." Jayne gave him a withering glare. Mycroft turned to stare at Sherlock, who simply gave a mysterious smile, steepling his fingers in front of his chin and looking at Jayne.

"I am not a case, Sherlock Holmes. A basket case, maybe, though," she giggled to herself, laying her head back on the chair, not realizing that tears still leaked from the sides of her eyes. She sniffled but didn't jerk away when John placed his hand on her shoulder encouragingly.

"Well, I suppose all we can do for now is 'keep calm and carry on', eh, Mycroft?" John asked.

Mycroft just stayed silent, watching the girl. He wondered, besides how the girl had just suddenly appeared, what it was about her that was keeping Sherlock so intrigued by her. She certainly wasn't an outstanding beauty, but she wasn't homely either. Her hair was long and thick, currently pulled back from her face in a braid, secured with a normal everyday hair tie. Her pajamas were the kind you'd find in almost any store in America: fleecy red plaid pajama bottoms and a white tank top. Her feet were bare, giving credence to her story that she'd gone to bed in her own bed and woken in Sherlock's. There was no dirt, mud, scratches or anything to suggest that she'd walked from a mental institution to Sherlock's flat before climbing into his bed. Mycroft was certain that Sherlock had already noticed this and more.

"'Keep calm and carry on?'" Jayne shrieked, causing all of them to wince. Sherlock glared at her. "I'm here with no clothes, no food, no money, and I'm not even in my own country!" She said in a slightly less shrill voice.

"I have people searching for your records overseas, dear. We will figure this out. Perhaps some kind of military experiment involving teleportation." At Jayne's odd look, he continued, "Just between you and me, these things do happen." He made her laugh when he winked at her. She knew he was most likely trying to keep her from becoming hysterical again, but she was surprised when it did actually help.

"State secrets, Mycroft?" She grinned at him and laughed. There was a small smile lurking around the corners of his mouth. There was a knock at the door and John felt her go rigid under his hand. Mrs. Hudson opened the door and there, standing between the two agents was Molly Hooper. Jayne immediately relaxed as the small woman stumbled into the apartment. _Flat_, Jayne corrected herself. _Here it was called a flat._

Molly was carrying a small plastic box that looked like a tackle box. When she opened it, there was a stack of small syringes and needles and vials for taking blood. Jayne whimpered quietly when she saw the needles. She'd never enjoyed having her blood drawn. And God knew she'd had it drawn often enough as a young teenager. _Cancer would do that to you_, she thought. She wondered if Sherlock had already noticed the scar across her throat…but that was stupid, of course he had. There was very little the man didn't observe. Jayne was pretty sure there would be no secrets here, dream or no dream.

So when Molly asked for her arm, Jayne held it out, smiling softly as Molly tried to make her at ease. "Molly, just take her blood, would you?" Sherlock grumped. Jayne whipped the pillow at his head, startling herself, Molly and Sherlock. "Be nice to Molly, Sherlock Holmes. She does so for you and you're acting like an ungrateful child. She didn't have to come down here and do this, she could have refused. So stuff it, sit there and behave."

Molly simply stared at Jayne in surprise, no one had ever stood up for her before. Sherlock was silent, glaring at Jayne. No one, not even John, had really ever taken him to task over his treatment of Molly. Was it really that bad? From the look on Jayne's face, yes, yes it was. So he sat there silently, glaring away while Jayne ignored him.

Molly smiled up at Jayne, making small talk while she felt around for the vein in her arm that would work well for drawing blood. "Actually, I wasn't doing anything anyways, dear. Was my day off." Jayne frowned. "I'm sorry, Molly. I wasn't thinking when I asked, I just knew I didn't want that jerk off Anderson taking it," Jayne apologized.

"Do you know me, then?" Molly asked. She wracked her brain trying to think if she'd met Jayne before and just didn't recall.

Jayne smiled. "No, not really. But I know _OF_ you. I know that you're incredibly gifted, kind and that Sherlock has a very bad habit of not appreciating you." Molly's mouth opened and shut for a few minutes, making her look terribly a lot like a fish. "But you are important, Molly. Even if he doesn't appreciate how much so. Besides, I don't know any other pathologist who would put up with his brand of odd," she whispered, hoping Sherlock wouldn't overhear and take it the wrong way. Jayne was rather fond of Sherlock's brand of odd, even if it sometimes made her want to hit him.

"Ok, Jayne, I need you to clench your fist," Molly asked gently. Jayne did, and started breathing a little harder when Molly prepared the syringe with the vial. "Ready?" Molly asked. Jayne nodded, quickly turning her face away and gritting her teeth. She felt a swift pinching sensation as Molly slid the needle under her skin. "Got it in one," Molly said. Jayne turned back, watching her blood flow into the tube. Molly switched the first tube for another. Jayne gulped. "How many of those are you taking?"

"Three. Mycroft wants quite a few tests done," Molly replied, watching the vial.

"Four. I want to run some tests of my own," Sherlock said, watching Jayne go even paler at his words. Jayne grumbled under her breath. "What's that? Stop mumbling," Sherlock said.

"I said you're trying to kill me! Vampire," Jayne said, quite clearly. She saw the corner of his mouth quirk upwards. "Sherlock Holmes, I swear if you smirk at me, I'm going to poison you."

"I don't eat." He said, his eyes flashing with held-in laughter.

"I will find a way!" She promised, glaring at him. Molly was staring at her and Jayne blushed, and whispered, "I wouldn't really. I don't want to hurt anyone. I just want to wake up and go about my real life." Jayne felt the tears welling up again and tried to push the back, sniffling. She was really trying not to get on Sherlock's nerves, she was certain he was probably sick of her sniveling by now.

Molly felt bad for the woman who seemed so unhappy. But then, Mycroft's men, after informing her that Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes requested her presence, had told her a little about what was going on. The poor woman had suddenly just shown up, in Sherlock's bed (a fact which made Molly both incredibly angry and jealous). The woman had sworn over and over again that she had no idea how she'd gotten there and no matter how many times Mycroft had asked her to tell her story, it never changed. She'd gone to bed in her own bed in South Carolina in the States and had woke up in Sherlock's bed in London.

Finally Molly had finished drawing all four vials of blood, and gently she removed the needle from Jayne's arm. She pressed a gauze pad to the spot and had Jayne close her arm to stop the bleeding and hold the pad in place. "No worries, Molly. I'm not a bleeder," Jayne said as Molly pulled back the gauze to replace it with a band aid. True to her word, the needle mark had already stopped bleeding, but there was quite a bruise forming around it. Looking concerned, Molly looked closer before Jayne said softly. "It's ok, Molly. I bruise incredibly easy. I cannot tell you how many times I've banged into something without realizing it and then found a damn bruise the side of my hand later. Used to cause all sorts of trouble in school, having the counselor constantly asking if I was being abused at home or something. It literally took me showing him, the school nurse and the principal how easily I bruised just by pinching myself before they left me alone."

"And they never ran any tests or anything?" John asked.

"Of course they did, but there was nothing to find. Just very pale skin-" She was cut off when Sherlock asked, "Isn't that unusual with your Native American heritage?" Jayne just blinked at him.

"American Indian? How can you tell?" John was flummoxed.

"The shape of my nose and cheekbones, my dark hair and eyes, I would assume," Jayne replied for Sherlock, making him give her another of his withering stares. She simply smiled back at him, grinning widely when he nodded. "But yes, I do. I call myself a mutt, simply because there's so many different races in my background. Cherokee, German, Scotch-Irish, even a little French and English. So, very pale skin, dark hair and eyes, and high cheekbones and sculpted nose."

"How far back is the Cherokee?" Sherlock asked, actually interested. He'd had a fascination with the Indian tribes of the States as a younger child.

"Hmm…great-great grandmother, I believe. Might be three-times great, though. So a bit far back. I never really knew much about it, mom's grandmother didn't like to talk about it much, in fact she kind of hid it. My mom told me she'd asked her why it had been hidden, and she was told that when the great-grandmother had been born, it wasn't far after the whole Custer thing and so being Native American wasn't a good thing." Sherlock nodded before standing, and walking into his bedroom without a word.

Jayne looked at Mycroft as if expecting an explanation, but Mycroft merely shrugged. John patted her shoulder and sat down on the sofa beside Mycroft. Jayne sighed and took a small sip of her cooling tea. She nearly choked when it was still boiling hot. Dear god, how hot had Mrs. Hudson made it? She was surprised the woman still had any tissue left in her mouth!

Sherlock's bedroom door opened and he was now dressed. She smiled when it was one her favorite outfits, a white button up shirt and black pants. "Come along, Jayne," he said, making her choke on her tea again.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked.

"We're going out."

"Sherlock in case you didn't notice, I have no clothes, no shoes, no coat and it's fricking cold!" She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him. He didn't seem perturbed at her tone.

Sighing, Sherlock began to rub his temples. "John-"

"No." Jayne said, surprising him. "John is not going to let me borrow his clothes just so you can drag me out to wherever it is you have in mind."

Everyone's head whipped back and forth between Sherlock and Jayne. They honestly couldn't remember anyone speaking like that to him. Molly was staring at Jayne, wishing she was that brave around Sherlock.

"Yet. You don't have clothes, shoes, coat, yet." Mycroft said, holding out a small black plastic card. Eyes wide, Jayne took the card.

"What's this for?" she asked.

"Until we find out how this happened, consider yourself my guest. Use that card to pay for whatever you need. If you'll give me a list of your sizes, I'll have a few things delivered until such time as you can go shopping and buy something you'd prefer. And maybe then, Sherlock, you can "drag" her to "wherever it is you have in mind." Mycroft smiled down at her.

"Until then," he continued, "Mrs. Hudson, you still have that room downstairs that is going unused, yes?"

"Well, yes, but it needs some work. It's terribly damp and cold down there," she explained.

"I'll have it seen to immediately," Mycroft said.

"No." Sherlock stated, catching all their attentions.

"No?" Jayne asked.

"No. You're staying here, with me.


	3. Chapter 3

True to his word, two hours later Mycroft's assistant "Anthea" was at the door, texting with one hand and holding out the large bag of clothes with the other. Meanwhile, Jayne and Sherlock were still going back and forth as to why Jayne should stay in 221 B. "For God's sake, Sherlock, I'll be just downstairs!" Jayne was exasperated.

"No," he said just as adamantly as before. "What if I have something to ask you? It will be a hassle of going all the way downstairs, knocking on the door, possibly waking you up. Which will just make you angry and uncooperative." He sounded so reasonable. It just made Jayne want to hit him.

"No, Sherlock. If I'm going to be stuck here for any length of time, I want a place of my own. As much as I admire you and John, I'm still a female. I need a space of my own without worrying about men wondering around. Besides, what if I slept naked or something?" She grinned when John almost choked on his tea.

"You obviously don't," Sherlock said, eyeing her pajamas, which she was still in. "And it's quite apparent you are a female, you have breasts and lack a penis." He wondered why her face was suddenly suffused with blood. Why was she blushing? He thought back over what he'd said, analyzing it word for word to when she had begun blushing. _Ahh_, he thought, _it was when he'd said the word __**penis**_. He didn't understand why it was such a taboo, it was clearly a part of human anatomy, every male had one.

Jayne tried to control her blushing. But it wasn't easy, she blushed often over the least little thing. John finally jumped in a little to save her. "That's enough Sherlock. She'll be right downstairs. Besides, she'll have to stay here until it's ready for her to move in, consign yourself with that.

Sherlock sighed pitifully and threw himself down onto the couch. "Oh, fine!" He turned to watch Jayne as her blush began to fade. It had brought some nice color to her face, she finally hadn't looked so pale.

She noticed him watching her and laughed, thinking of something. "Just think, Sherlock. You won't have to knock in the middle of the night, you can just pick the lock." She was rewarded with his smile as he steepled his fingers and placed his chin on their tips, thinking of what other interesting tidbits he'd be able to glean from her once she had a place of her own.

"Jayne, if you'd like to use my laptop to order some things for yourself, you're welcome to," John politely offered.

"Thank you, John. But I'm not very comfortable using this card, really. I'll make do with what Anthea brought for now, until I can make my own way or I find a way…home." Both John and Sherlock noticed how she choked up at the world and both found themselves praying she wouldn't start crying. John because he couldn't make it better, Sherlock because he didn't want to listen to the annoying sniveling noises he was certain she'd make.

Jayne blushed as her stomach growled and she placed a hand over the offending organ. John smiled and Sherlock smirked at the noise. "It is getting pretty late, and none of us have had any breakfast yet…can it still be called breakfast when it's two in the afternoon?" John thought out loud.

"Technically, yes. It is still "breaking the fast." Sherlock and Jayne both said at the same time, causing John to huff and sigh while rolling his eyes. Sherlock and Jayne just stared at each other.

"I could maybe cook something if I can take a look at what you have in there?" Jayne offered.

"Yes, but be certain not to move my severed head, I'm working on an experiment," Sherlock groused.

"Oh for heaven's sake, Sherlock, not another one!" John exclaimed, looking a bit peeved.

"I won't move your head, Sherlock,"Jayne said, standing and walking into the kitchen, opening cupboards and feeling a bit ill at the enormous pile of dirty dishes littering the counters, stovetop and sink. She smiled when she saw an unopened bag of self-rising flour, a package of sausages, butter, eggs and milk. "Sausage gravy and biscuits and scrambled eggs!" she decided, thinking immediately of one of her favorite meals for Sunday breakfasts at home. But looking around, she realized she would have to do some dishes before she could do any cooking.

So she quickly set to clearing out the sink, scrubbing it clean and running water as hot as it could go. She spotted a bottle of bleach under the sink, probably from some odd experiment of Sherlock's. She poured the bleach into the hot water, along with a dollop of dishwashing liquid and began to wash the dishes, setting aside the baking pan and skillet she would use for the biscuits and gravy. She also washed a large bowl and dried it well.

She measure out flour as well as she could using a teacup into the bowl, then cut the butter into the bowl, mixing it well into the flour. She poured the milk (she'd already checked to make sure it wasn't soured) into the flour-butter mixture and used a fork to mix it well, stirring it into a large doughy lump. She spread a little more flour out onto a cleaned counter and dumped the dough onto the counter. She kneaded it for a few minutes before beginning to pull off small pieces the size of a fist, smoothing it and laying it on the baking sheet. The pan was filled-no spaces between the biscuits-and she slid it into the hot oven.

While that cooked, she slit the sausages, pulling the meat from the casings and began to brown it in the tall-sided skillet. When it was all browned, she pulled it from the pan, sprinkled the fat left in the pan with flour, salt, pepper and a pinch of sugar. It smelled so good that her stomach was almost constantly growling. She stirred the roux for a few minutes, watching it become a slightly golden color before swiftly stirring in more milk, creating the gravy. It was quite thin at first but as it began to boil, it thickened into a rich milk gravy that would be delicious overtop of the biscuits. She poured the gravy into a bowl, setting it on the back of the stove to keep warm while she washed the pan.

She cracked six eggs into a bowl, scrambling them quickly before pouring them into a little melted butter in the skillet. She stirred them with a wooden spoon as they cooked and set. She sprinkled them with salt and dished them up just as the timer on the oven dinged. _Perfect timing_, she thought. She pulled the biscuits from the oven, using a butter knife to spread a little butter on top of their browned tops. "Boys!" she called. She laughed when she looked up and John was standing there; he'd been leaning against the door frame the entire time, just watching her cook.

She quickly dished up a plate for John, then another for Sherlock and one for herself. She set it down in front of Sherlock on the coffee table. He looked at it in surprise. "I told you I don't eat," he said.

"You probably haven't eaten in days. AND you're not working. So eat, Sherlock," Jayne ordered. She blushed when she heard John moan as he took his first bite.

"This…this is incredible, Jayne. Where did you learn to cook? I've never had anything like this before." John shoved another forkful into his mouth.

"Learned from my mom, mostly. She's an amazing cook. She taught me everything I know, but I expanded on it by watching a ton of cooking shows. I enjoy cooking, it's a bit of a stress reliever for me. And considering the stress I've been under today, I needed to cook," Jayne explained. She'd been furtively observing Sherlock as he'd taken his fork and cut off a small bit of a biscuit. She smiled to herself as he sampled it. While he wasn't as profuse as John in his pleasure, at least he didn't grimace or make a snarky comment. So she began to eat in earnest.

"If this is what you can do for breakfast, I can't wait to see what you come up with for dinner," John said hopefully, making Jayne smile.

"Well, I do make a mean chicken and dumplings," Jayne admitted. "I'd need a few things for it, though."

"Write me a list, I'll go to the market." John said, certain that it would be worth every bit of hassle from the damn machines at the grocery.

"I believe I'll go with you," Sherlock spoke for the first time in a little while, causing them both to look at him.

"Oh…kay," John was surprised. He was certain that Sherlock wouldn't be wanting to leave the house any time soon. Usually after a visit from Mycroft, you couldn't get him to leave for days unless he was on a case.

"Then I guess I'll visit with Mrs. Hudson for a bit while you boys are out. After I clean up a bit," Jayne said. And before Sherlock could say anything, she continued with, "And yes, I know, don't touch your experiments, Sherlock."

Instead of looking annoyed, Sherlock actually looked pleased. Jayne quickly wrote out a short list for John of items to pick up so that she could cook for the next few days. As the boys left, Jayne made her way around the apartment, collecting dirty dishes, washing them and putting them away. Then she began picking up and straightening up. She scrubbed the toilet and bathtub and sink with bleach, making them shine. Then she went into the boys' rooms. Not surprising, John's was quite spic-and-span, probably all the years in the military. Sherlock's however, was still in disarray. So she quickly straightened the bed and made it. Yawning, she realized how tired she was and laid down on the edge of the bed, just to rest her eyes. She fell into a deep, dream-filled sleep, whimpering softly and wrapping her arms tightly around herself. And that was how Sherlock found her hours later, the sight causing a strange twist in his guts at finding her in his bed again


	4. Chapter 4

**To all you lovely readers: Thank you so much for your reviews, they are so special to me! I LOVE hearing from you and learning what you think about the story! Please keep reading and leaving those wonderful reviews!**

Sherlock backed out of the room, quietly shutting the door. John was still looking around in apparent shock. "Do you see this? The woman's amazing. She cooks. She cleans. She puts up with you," John said, laughing softly.

"Yes, but she has this terrible habit of falling asleep in my bed," Sherlock mused out loud.

"Well, where were you expecting her to sleep, Sherlock? Especially if you wanted her to stay here? There's only the two beds, yours and mine. And I actually use mine." John grinned at Sherlock's obvious annoyance.

"There's the couch," Sherlock groused.

"Sherlock! Like it or not, she's a guest, for now. She gets the bed, you get the couch. Sorry, but that's just how it is. Besides, it's not like you even really use your bed for anything interesting," John teased his roommate.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at him before throwing his collar up, wrapping a scarf around his neck and stalking from the apartment. He still hadn't returned an hour later when Jayne had woken and stumbled out of Sherlock's room. She rubbed her hand over her face, her eyes still feeling sleepy. "How much trouble am I in for falling asleep in his bed?" She asked.

"He wasn't pleased, but he's resigned to you being here for a bit. He stalked off for a while. There's no telling when he'll be back," John tried to reassure her. He was surprised to see a hint of sadness around her eyes when he relayed the information. He thought she'd be happy that Sherlock would be gone for a while. John knew he certainly enjoyed the peace, never knowing what would come to pass when Sherlock would return.

"Well then, I guess I'll start supper, it's getting late. Were you able to get everything on my list?" she asked.

"Yes. Do you want help or should I just…?" he asked, hoping she wouldn't require his presence while in the kitchen. He wasn't much of a cook and was sure he'd probably screw up whatever she tried to put him in charge of. Years of military cooking didn't do much as far as making food truly tasty and edible.

"Oh no, John, you go ahead and read the paper or catch up on your blog or something. I'm fine, as long as I can find everything. Oh, I see you left everything but the butter and chicken in the bags, that's good." She said, trying not to laugh at the two large sacks still left on the counter beside the sink. She washed her hands, dried them and took the package of chicken from the refrigerator. She placed a bit of butter in a skillet, letting it melt as she rinsed and dried the chicken thighs she'd had John purchase.

When the butter was melted, she sprinkled the chicken with salt before browning them. Once they'd gotten a bit of good color, she pulled the skins off of them and slid them into a pot of boiling water to poach. While the chicken thighs cooked, she measured out flour, then used a fork to cut butter into it until it had formed pea-sized bits. She added cold water until it formed a thick, sticky dough. Unlike with the biscuits, she wanted it like this, she wouldn't be adding more flour. Finally the chicken thighs were cooked after about thirty minutes. She pulled them from the pot with a pair of tongs she'd had John purchase. She made quick work of pulling the meat from the bones and shredding it, adding it back to the pot of what had now become chicken stock. She used a spoon to lift dollops of the dough into the stock before clamping a lid on the pot and letting the dumplings cook through.

Ten minutes later, they were ready and Jayne called for John. She ladled up a bowl of the chicken and dumplings and passed it to him. She nearly shrieked when she saw Sherlock standing there looking at her. She did bobble the bowl she was holding and would have dropped it if Sherlock's hands hadn't suddenly been there under her own to catch it. "Sorry," Jayne said, mentally kicking herself for not being more aware of her surroundings. Sherlock could be entirely too sneaky for her nerves.

"Thought you didn't eat?" She said, smiling slightly.

Sherlock scowled at her. "Well, as you said, I'm not on a case now."

She couldn't stop the wide grin that flashed across her face. Sherlock Holmes liked her cooking! Sherlock felt like she'd punched him in the guts; that smile, knowing he'd caused it, filled him with an emotion he couldn't name. It was strangely similar to how he felt when he was on the case of a serial killer that had finally made a mistake, making it possible for Sherlock to catch them. A strange kind of exhilaration.

Jayne took the bowl from him, ladled the chicken and dumplings into it and handed it back to him, feeling blood rush to her face when they're fingers slid against each other. Sherlock just looked at her strangely before going and sitting in his chair, letting the food cool slightly as it sat in his lap. Jayne quickly dished up her own bowl and carried it to the sofa, sitting down and placing the bowl on the coffee table in front of her.

John, meanwhile, had already begun eating, huddled over his bowl as though someone was going to try to steal it from him, as though there wasn't a whole pot-full of it still in the kitchen. She heard him huffing around a bite of hot chicken, opening his mouth and blowing out around the hot food. But he was definitely eating with relish, enjoying every bite.

Jayne quietly blew on a bite of her own, smiling as she tasted it. It tasted like home, she thought, exactly how her mother's had tasted. She felt a swift blow of sadness, wondering if her mother was alright. If Jayne's body had disappeared and she was now completely in this world that had once been only a world of make-believe on the television. Or if she was in a comatose state, somehow still in her bed. Or perhaps she'd finally lost her mind as she'd sometimes claimed, and now she was huddled in the corner of a padded room in a mental institution.

"Jayne, are you alright?" John asked, looking at her concerned. She hadn't realized that she'd stopped eating and was looking down at her bowl of chicken and dumplings as though it held the secrets of the universe.

"Yes, John. I'm just feeling a little worn out…and worrying about my mother" Jayne admitted. "I think I'm going to go to bed. I'm assuming I'm still sleeping in Sherlock's bed?"

John nodded. "Yes, Sherlock's going to sleep on the couch. Rest well, Jayne."

Jayne took her still-full bowl to the kitchen, putting it in the refrigerator along with the large pot still filled with the leftovers. She rinsed her spoon but left it to wash in the morning. She drank a glass of water and used the bathroom quickly before going back into Sherlock's room. She looked through the bag of items Mycroft had sent Anthea with and was pleased to find pajamas similar to what she'd been wearing when she'd mysteriously appeared in Sherlock's bed. She changed and climbed into the bed, pulling the blanket up around her shoulders and burying her head into the pillow, breathing in a scent that she had come to associate with all Sherlock. Soap, shaving lotion and some kind of spicy aftershave. She smiled as she slid into dreams.

She wasn't sure how long she slept, but she woke crying out as the dreams that had haunted her slowly faded. The door was flung open and a half-asleep Sherlock stood there, wrapped only in a sheet and backlit against the darkness. Jayne sniffled and felt the tears begin to slide down her cheeks. It hadn't been a dream, she really was stuck in a world that was not her own.

"Jayne?" Sherlock asked sleepily. "Are you alright?"

She nodded and he turned to leave. "Sherlock?" she spoke quickly before he could leave. He turned back to stare at her. "I know you don't like me much, but could you stay here with me until I fall asleep?" She could see the indecision on his face before he sighed and walked over, carefully keeping himself covered as he slid into the bed near her. She blushed as she had one more small request. "If it isn't too much trouble, could you hold my hand, Sherlock?" He sighed deeply and instead of grabbing her hand, moved closer and pulled her back against him, his arm around her waist. Surprised, she could only lay there unmoving.

"There, now go to sleep, Jayne," he said She smiled and snuggled back against him a little more before closing her eyes and letting sleep claim her as Sherlock's warm breath whispered over her cheek.


	5. Chapter 5

When Jayne woke the next morning, she was quite relieved to find that Sherlock was already up and gone. She wasn't sure she could look him in the eye knowing he'd held her during the night. She tried to rationalize it, "We didn't actually 'sleep' together, you idiot. He just…held me while I slept. Ugh!" Her inner fan girl and her deep-seated morals were at war with each other.

Finally she practically crawled out of bed. She dragged some of the clothes from the bag from Mycroft and headed into the bathroom to take a shower. She was happily surprised to see that Anthea had picked her up some body wash, shampoo and conditioner, as what the boys had in the shower could hardly be called soap, what little there was of it.

The water was hot and she was happy to find that the shower head had a "massage" setting. Jayne was certain Mrs. Hudson must have picked out the showerhead, because she was pretty sure that John and Sherlock wouldn't have bothered with it. When she was clean, she stepped out of the shower smelling of peach and roses. Her hair finally felt clean and she combed it carefully before braiding the wet mass tightly to keep it out of her way. She was glad that she always kept a few hair ties around her wrist in case she needed them, the night she'd appeared had been no exception.

As she rubbed a lotion whose scent matched the shower gel into her skin, she felt sad when she realized for the millionth time that something more valuable to her than diamonds was missing from her hand. Her right ring finger was bare. Before she'd disappeared from her own bed, she'd removed a simple silver ring her mother had given her for her sixteenth birthday.

Jayne felt sad and didn't realized a tear had fallen down her cheek until she looked in the mirror. She sniffled, trying to hold back the tears. She didn't want Sherlock to see the tears and get annoyed by her constantly teary-eyed state. Heaven knew he was probably already irritated with her already having to hold her during the night to keep her quiet.

Unknown to Jayne, she couldn't be farther from the truth. At the moment, Sherlock was walking down alleyways and old streets of London, thinking about the intriguing woman who'd spooned with him all night. He'd thought, when he first lay beside her, that he'd never be able to sleep. That he would be able to slip out the door when she'd finally fallen asleep. Imagine his surprise when he'd woken from one of the best nights of sleep he'd ever had, arms still wrapped around Jayne. When she'd snuggled back against him, he'd realized his body had betrayed him. He'd slid away from her, hoping she wouldn't feel his hardness pressing against her backside. He'd taken a rather cold shower and had left the apartment early, walking to clear his head and cool his body further.

Now he was on his way back to the apartment, determine more than ever to find out she'd appeared and send her back home. He tried to push away the swift pang his guts gave at the thought of no more Jayne. When he entered the apartment, he was surprised to see she was already awake, and was warming her bowl of chicken and dumplings from the night before in the microwave. "Morning," she said, looking a little sad.

He nodded, watching her. "DId you know you'd left a jar of eyeballs in the microwave?" she asked. He leaned against the door frame and nodded. "Do you want me to put them back in? The microwave's still hot so I wasn't sure if it would mess up your experiment." Sherlock was a little astonished. John and Mrs. Hudson were always angry with him when he put his experiments in weird places. But how else was he going to learn what happened when eyeballs were placed in minor radiation? But Jayne not only calmly accepted it, she wanted to help him continue his research.

"No, it needs to cool off. I'll take care of it," he said. She nodded and walked into the living room, trailing the scent of peach and roses and warmed over chicken and dumplings behind her. Her long braid swung side to side as she walked by. He couldn't resist and reached out, tugging it gently, a small smile playing on his lips. It caught Jayne by surprise and she laughed. She sat on the sofa, sitting sideways, her feet on the cushion beside her. She flipped the television on to some cooking show and was amazed again when he sat beside her.

She blushed and blurted out, "I'm sorry." He looked confused, so she continued. "For last night. I'm sure you had much better plans than to sleep beside me, with me snoring in your ear."

"You don't snore," he said softly. "And it wasn't an inconvenience. The bed's much more comfortable than the couch, and it's large enough for two, so there's no reason to be apologetic." She nodded and it was then that he noticed she was barely eating, looking at the television screen but not really seeing it, and rubbing her left pointer finger and thumb over a spot on her right ring finger. There was an almost imperceptible imprint of paler skin there. Almost imperceptible, unless you were Sherlock Holmes. He gently took her hand, startling her. "Why don't you tell me about the ring?"

His question took her by surprise, she hadn't realized she'd been rubbing her finger. "My mother gave it to me when I turned sixteen." Sentiment, Sherlock realized, and listened as she continued. "It's nothing fancy, really. Just a plain silver band with an inscribed design." Without realizing she was doing it, she drew the design in the air, eyes closed as she remembered every detail about the ring. "She gave it to me when I went into remission." At his look, she explained, "I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer when I was fourteen. Had my thyroid removed, I know you noticed the scar," He had, indeed, noticed the thin, pale scar which ran along her throat. He had figured some kind of surgery, it was too precise, too thin to be a regular blade, it had to have been made by a scalpel.

"Don't you need to be on a thyroid hormone replacement therapy?" he asked, suddenly worried. If she didn't have her pills, it could very well make her sick, it would leave her body weak and her metabolism low… or even to eventually cause the regrowth of cancer cells in her body.

"Yes. I'm ok for a few days, though. It takes weeks for the buildup to become bad. I was going to ask you for Mycroft's number, so that I could call him today and talk to him about a doctor. I don't think he wants me going out and about yet. I think I'm kind of a state secret," she laughed. Her smile slowly faded when he didn't say anything. "Sorry, didn't mean to bring up a sore spot. I know Mycroft's not your favorite person." She gently placed her hand over his, hoping he wouldn't take it as pity.

He didn't, for some reason. He left her hand on his and stared at her, and smirked when she held a spoonful of chicken and dumplings to his mouth. To please her, and himself, he took the offered bite. Even warmed over, it was rather good, he admitted to himself. She jumped a little when he did, she hadn't expected it.

Jayne could only hope that he didn't realize that she'd jumped because what he'd done was unexplainably sensual. The way he'd been staring into her eyes had made her mouth go dry and her heart beat faster. And she was quite certain he'd noticed that at least. She was certain her heart was jack hammering a message loud and clear to Sherlock Holmes, the pulse in her throat beating it's quickened pace like a drum.

"Sherlock! Jayne! Good morning!" John exclaimed as he came into the room. He saw Jayne blush and wondered what Sherlock had said to her. He simply sighed and walked into the kitchen, ignoring the eyeballs on the table and warming up some chicken and dumplings of his own. When he sat back down on his own chair, eyeing the television, Sherlock had slid to the far end of the couch and was staring at the television as well.

John ate with gusto and was barely finished when Sherlock called his name, motioning for him to follow. "I guess we'll be back later, Jayne," John said, swiftly kissing the top of her head as he left, making Jayne smile. "Be careful, John," she said in farewell. She gathered her bowl and his and walked into the kitchen to wash them. She was stopped in her tracks at a small piece of paper.

It read simply, "Mycroft" and a set of numbers, obviously the number to get in touch with Mycroft. The simple "-SH" at the bottom left no doubt as to who had put the number there. Jayne smiled as she picked up the phone and dialed the number. She was surprised when Mycroft picked up on the first ring, as if he'd expected her call. She soon found out that he had. Sherlock himself had texted him, explaining, as he very rarely did, that Jayne would need a competent endocrinologist.

She spoke only briefly with Mycroft before being assured that Anthea was on her way with a Dr. Palmer, one of the highest men in the field of Endocrinology. Jayne was almost laughing, she knew that all she needed was her thyroid pills. Suffice it to say, Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes did nothing in half-style.


	6. Chapter 6

**Just wanted to wish everyone Merry Christmas, and here's a little Christmas gift for you all! :D ~J.**

Jayne's visit with Dr. Palmer went very well, and as she'd suspected, all he did was give her a prescription for her thyroid pills. Same brand and dosage as she'd previously been on. It had been interesting to meet Anthea, though meet was a relative term. The woman hadn't stopped texting the entire time she'd been in the apartment. Jayne had been surprised when Anthea had pulled an extra cell phone from her bag, a gift from Mycroft so that he could keep in touch with her. Jayne was glad that it was a relatively simple model, with a keyboard. She refused to admit it, but she was a bit intimidated by the newest smartphones.

She was also happily surprised that John and Sherlock's numbers had also already been put into the phone. And she was quite certain the phone was entirely encrypted, with Mycroft being who he was. She almost jumped out of her skin when she got her first text message:

_The eyeballs can go back in the microwave now. -SH_

Jayne laughed. Still smiling, she picked up the jar of eyeballs and placed them back in the microwave before washing up the dishes and putting them away after drying them. As she cleaned, she realized the hamper was full as were the ones in John and Sherlock's rooms. Jayne knew Mrs. Hudson probably hated having to do their laundry, so she gathered everything up and finally located the washing machine and dryer in a small room just past John and Sherlock's bedrooms.

She sorted the clothes into dark and light piles, laughing at one pair of satin boxer shorts with a print of hula dancers. Obviously John's, Jayne highly doubted Sherlock would ever wear something like that. The errant thought of, "_what kind of shorts would he wear, if no one were "looking"_?" teased her over-active fan girl imagination. She viciously tried to shut that part of her mind down. She was living in his house, cooking his food, and now doing his laundry, for god's sake! It's not like he could have that many secrets, right? "_Suuuuuuure_." she grimaced when she realized no matter what, Sherlock was Sherlock, no one was ever going to know all his secrets.

By the time the boys had arrived back home, with John toting some strange sort of gadget and Sherlock looking provoked, Jayne had most of the laundry finished, with only one last load of Sherlock's shirts to finish. She wanted to take care with them so as not to ruin them. She joined them in the living room and sat down on her spot on the sofa. Sherlock disappeared into his room for a moment before returning to the living room.

Again, instead of sitting in his regular seat, he sat near Jayne. "How'd it go?" she asked, mostly of John.

He groaned and pointed at Sherlock. "That git had me in and out of every pawn shop in London, swearing one of them would have what he was looking for. After seven of the blasted things, he finally pulled some old pieces of material that we'd seen at a dozen other shops down off the shelf. And then he gave them to one of his homeless network and we came home." John sighed and sank down deeper into his chair, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Sherlock.

Jayne found herself smiling. "Let me guess? It was the materials it was made of that was the difference?" Sherlock's gaze jerked up to meet hers and John looked at her in surprise. Sherlock gave her a subtle nod, making her smile.

"How did you come up with that explanation? He wouldn't tell me," John asked.

"Well, if he was still looking, it means it wasn't what he was looking for exactly. All I could think of was that there had to be something wrong with the others, and you said that he looked at them over and over again in each shop. That makes me think it was the materials in it, not the object itself. What was it, a coat?"

John almost growled at her. "Now how did you guess THAT?!"

She blushed. Truthfully, she'd watched episodes of Sherlock so often that she felt she had some idea of how Sherlock's genius worked. But then, there were times he'd completely surprised her already. "You said that he handed it off to one of his homeless network. All I could think was he needed to know how a material would react to the weather or the conditions the homeless are exposed to. One of his network would know the best places for the precise conditions that Sherlock would require for his experiment." She turned to look at Sherlock. "So, am I right?"

"Fifteen year old homeless girl went missing three days ago. Her body was found wrapped in a coat that none of her acquaintances recognized. She had been raped, beaten and strangled." Jayne noticed that Sherlock looked angry and strangely guilty around his eyes. "She was working on a small chore for me when she disappeared."

Without thinking, Jayne immediately crawled into Sherlock's lap and wrapped her arms around him. Not realizing that he'd stiffened and that his face had gone blank, Jayne whispered to him. "It's not your fault, Sherlock." She felt his arms wrap around her and thought that he was accepting her words. But when he lifted her off his lap, she gasped and he put her down on the couch before stalking out of the apartment. Jayne felt tears sting her eyes.

John sighed and stood, walking over and put his hand on her shoulder, as if to lend her some support. "I'm sorry, Jayne. He's a difficult one, is Sherlock." Jayne nodded and sniffled, wiping away her tears. She turned and looked at John. "Are you hungry? I was thinking of making something filling again since the rain's a bit chilly today. Maybe some beef stroganoff?"

She laughed when John's stomach growled. "I think you're a saint, Jayne. Do you want help or do you want me to stay out of your way again?" He looked hopeful and she laughed. "No, honestly, John, that's fine. Will it bother you if I have the radio on while I cook?" When he shook his head, she kissed him on the cheek, surprising him and making him blush a little as she started for the kitchen. He shook his head at her impulsive, sweet nature and settled into his chair and opened his laptop, and began typing out a blog, though one that omitted the lovely Jayne.

Jayne turned on the radio on the windowsill and slid the dial across the stations until she found one playing old American hits from the fifties and sixties. She was singing along as she thinly sliced a large roast that she'd had John pick up. Her breath caught in her throat as a hand closed over hers, stopping her movements. She looked up to find Sherlock standing beside her. She felt the blood drain from her face as she let her eyes slowly rise to his face. "I'm sorry," she said simply.

He held her hand for a moment and her brow furrowed as he felt his fingers on hers, and something slide onto her right ring finger. When Sherlock's fingers moved, she looked down and nearly squealed. There on her finger was an exact replica of the ring she'd only told Sherlock about that morning. Her heart beat harder and she could hear it pounding in her ears as once more her eyes filled with tears but this time happy ones. She dropped the knife on the cutting board and surprised both herself and Sherlock by throwing herself into his arms, her arms going around his neck and dragging his face down to hers. "Thank you, Sherlock Holmes," she whispered before pressing her lips gently to his.


	7. Chapter 7

As if this were an everyday occurrence, and not something that sent her inner fan girl into a tailspin, Jayne kissed Sherlock softly before pulling back and blushing a bright tomato-ey red. She could see that he wasn't as unaffected as he tried to be. His pulse was beating in his throat and his eyes were slightly dilated. She stepped back from him, gave him room to decide what he would do next. She wouldn't make him more uncomfortable with her sentiment. She could see that he was still breathing hard, though she wasn't sure if it was from surprise or some other emotion. Her inner fan girl was almost dancing, thinking that she had kissed Sherlock Holmes.

She stepped farther back in surprise when she heard John loudly clearing his throat. "If jewelry's all it would take to get a kiss like that, I'm heading to the shop right now," John laughed, watching the two of them.

"Actually, John, this is a very special piece of jewelry." Jayne explained why it was and John looked at Sherlock in surprise. Very rarely was the consulting detective openly kind. He figured there must be some kind of reasoning behind it, perhaps a trick of some kind, but nothing immediately popped into his head, so he let the matter drop for now. He nodded when Jayne showed him the ring, it was a pretty little piece. Delicate, he thought, it suited her.

John sat down and continued his work while Sherlock sat at one of the kitchen chairs, watching Jayne while she continued working on their supper. He observed how every time she would slice a piece of meat, she would glance down at the ring, it's shine catching her attention. He noticed the small smile she got on her face every time. He noticed that when she did, the sense of sadness left her for a moment. For some reason he didn't want to explore, knowing that something he'd done for her made her that happy made him feel that same strangely exhilarating joy.

Jayne, not realizing she was being thoroughly studied, floured the pieces of beef before placing them into a pan with a few tablespoons of hot oil. She didn't realize she was humming as she prepared the meal, but Sherlock certainly did. She had a surprisingly pleasant presence in the kitchen, he thought. He watched as she turned the meat as it browned, removing it to a plate before sliding sliced mushrooms into the hot skillet. She stirred them for a short while before placing a lid on the pan and pouring a bag of egg noodles into a pot of boiling, salted water.

When the mushrooms were cooked down, Jayne removed the mushrooms to the same bowl as the beef before she stirred in a few tablespoons of flour. She let it brown for a couple of minutes before whisking in beef broth and bringing it to a simmer to thicken. She stirred in sour cream before adding the mushrooms and beef back to the pan and stirring it well. She drained the noodles and returned them to their pot before pouring the beef-sauce mixture over it and tossing the pasta well to coat every noodle. "John! It's ready," she called out.

Sherlock watched as John put away his laptop and walked into the kitchen, taking a place at the table. Smiling, Jayne placed bowls of the stroganoff in front of each of them, along with forks and tall glasses. She filled them with homemade lemonade before setting her own place at the table and sitting down. Sherlock watched her do a mental check that everything was on the table. She realized she'd forgotten something and hopped up quickly to grab a plate with seven slices of bread, the butter and a knife. Placing it on the table, she nodded to herself and sat back down.

"Enjoy, boys," she announced and took up her own fork. Not needing another word, John tucked into his food, little moans of pleasure being more eloquent than words to Jayne in explaining if it was as good as she'd hoped. She watched Sherlock out of the corner of her eye as she took her own first bite. She was pleased that it tasted like her grandmother's, who she'd learned the recipe from. She jumped a little in surprise when John spoke. "That's it, I'm nominating you for sainthood," he said, making Jayne laugh, covering her mouth and giving a deep, full bodied laugh that made Sherlock's insides twist. It was such a joyful sound, and he couldn't resist a small smile flickering over his lips.

John joined the laughter as well before they all settle down to eat. Sherlock took his own first bite. He could see why John was so pleased with it, the meat was tender, the mushrooms flavorful, the sauce was tangy but not overpowering. It was very good. But then he took a drink of the lemonade and he was amazed. The flavor took him back to childhood and one of the cooks who'd made the best lemonade Sherlock had ever tasted, until now. It was sweet, tart and filled with lemon flavor. He didn't realize that a smile had crossed his lips and had stayed there, but Jayne had. _He really likes it! _Her inner fan girl squealed in delight. _I really have to shut her up_, Jayne thought, _or she's going to make me do something really stupid_.

After everyone had finished, John using three pieces of buttered bread to sop up every remaining bit of the sauce in his bowl, Jayne began to clear away the dishes, putting them into the sink as it filled with hot, soapy water. Jayne took her new ring off and placed it on the counter so as not to lose it. She felt, rather than saw, Sherlock leave the room. She wondered briefly what he would be out doing now and was surprised to hear his violin begin playing instead. She smiled as she washed the dishes, and put the leftover stroganoff into individual bowls with lids, placing them in the freezer for when one of the boys wanted it. She saw the pan of chicken and dumplings from the night before and did the same with it, letting the pot soak for a bit in the hot water so it would be easier to wash.

Finally finished when the last pot was clean and drying, Jayne wandered into the living room to find John was gone and Sherlock was still playing. She sat on the couch and put her feet up on the middle cushion and watched and listened. Each sweet, haunting note echoed in the small room. The tall ceilings made for an excellent auditory concert. Though she didn't recognize the tune, it was incredible, she thought. When she looked up, she realized that Sherlock was writing down the notes, he was composing this tune!

When he stopped writing and didn't pick up the violin again, Jayne felt brave enough to ask, "Did John go out?" As if surprised she was sitting there, Sherlock's eyes cleared of the intense concentration he'd held while composing. He looked around the flat and realized John wasn't there. "Yes, it seems so. Ahh, I believe he mentioned something about a date, now that I recall."

Jayne smiled. "Good for John. He needs a girlfriend."

Sherlock just stared at her, making her blush. "I'm going to go take a shower," she decided aloud and smiled at Sherlock as she headed for his bedroom to gather a pair of pajamas and clean underwear before walking into the bathroom. She turned on the water and let it get hot as she took her hair out of the braid, the mass of it falling around her in little waves as it was released. She ran her fingers vigorously through her scalp until it tingled, making her head feel less like it was in a vice. She closed her eyes, humming softly as she let her fingers glide through her thick hair. She opened her eyes and stripped out of her clothes, stepping gingerly under the hot water before sighing in pleasure. The hot steam enveloped her as the spray stung her skin, needle-like.

Un-mindful of Sherlock in the next room, she began to sing while she washed and rinsed her hair twice, and slathered it with conditioner, pinning it on top of her head while she scrubbed her body. The rose and peach scent of the body wash filled the room, as it slowly filled with steam. Finally feeling clean, she rinsed the conditioner out of her hair, squeezed it dry with her hands before stepping out onto the bath mat. She wrapped a towel around herself and another around her hair to keep it from dripping everywhere. She opened a small jar containing a facial moisturizer (yet another lovely surprise that Anthea had tucked into her bag, Jayne had laughed when the included note had said "a few more essentials") and began to slick a thin layer over her face and neck.

That finished, she finished her bath by smoothing a layer of the now-familiar rose-and-peach scented lotion over her body. She slid on a pair of clean underwear and had just dropped her bra (swearing under her breath) when the door burst open and Sherlock stood there, eyes wide and staring at her half-naked body.


	8. Chapter 8

Jayne tried to open her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. She was frozen in surprise. And apparently Sherlock was as well, because he made no move to leave or to apologize, he simply stared at her body. Finally Jayne was able to get her body to move and she wrapped her arms around her chest, covering her breasts and blushing a bright red that felt like it burned her skin. "C…can I help you, Sherlock?" she asked, her voice shooting higher than normal.

Sherlock finally seemed to get hold of himself . "My apologies. I meant to knock and ask if you would help me with a small experiment before you went to bed. The door wasn't locked and so I figured you were dressed already."

Sherlock was apologizing? It was so unlike him that she calmed herself and made herself breathe. "It's alright Sherlock. I'm sure you've seen plenty of naked bodies before. I'll be dressed in just a moment and will come and help you, alright? But I need to braid back my hair too, I don't want to contaminate anything." He nodded, turned and left, shutting the door behind him. What Jayne didn't see was Sherlock leaning against the door for a few moments, his eyes closed and picturing Jayne again before his eyes flashed open, he smiled and walked towards the kitchen table.

Fifteen minutes later, an eternity to Sherlock, Jayne finally appeared; face scrubbed and shiny, hair pulled back in a tight braid and clad in her pajamas. "Another one of my homeless network was found this morning." He handed her a file and she sat down and began studying the police report he'd handed her. She made mental notes as she read: Jamie Andrews, fifteen, found dead in an abandoned house along the river. Found there, but not killed there, Jayne supposed. If it was cut-and-dried, Sherlock wouldn't want her help. She couldn't bring herself to look at the photographs included in the file.

"Jayne," Sherlock's voice was forceful; he knew that she hadn't looked. She bit her lip and sighed, opening the file again. This time she forced herself to look at the pictures. Blonde hair, slightly dirty but pulled back into a ponytail. Eyes that had been a bright blue but were now dull with death. The small face, frozen in a caricature of something that had been full of life. Jayne felt her throat getting tight, but she pushed past the sense of grief that a young girl's life had ended and focused instead on searching for clues.

The girl's shoes showed signs of being dragged, the backs of the heels covered in dark colored mud. The coat was old, but of good quality, warm for cold London nights. He jeans were faded almost white with wear, age and washing. Her hands were clean up to the wrists, and then showed rings of grime. Her skin seemed shrunken and she looked gaunt, she was dehydrated. "She was held somewhere with a bathroom, but she wasn't allowed to stay long enough to drink any, or it wasn't good to drink." Jayne said, almost forgetting about Sherlock as her mind sank deeper into the details.

Softly, Sherlock asked, "How do you know?"

"Her skin is shrunken and tight, she's not been getting enough to drink, but that gaunt, she was held for days. But her hands are clean; she was able to wash them, probably after going to the bathroom. But she wasn't able to shower, her hair is dirty. Her clothes are old but good quality. They're still somewhat clean. She washes them when she gets a chance, probably at a Laundromat, throws them into the washer and dryer with someone else's while they're not around. The jeans are faded from being washed. What did Molly find when she examined the body?" Jayne asked.

"Like you said, dehydrated. But they fed her, there were remains of pizza and cheap Chinese food in her stomach."

"They wanted information. Probably didn't think to give her anything to drink. What did Molly say about cause of death?"

"Now that's the part I need your help with," Sherlock said, surprising Jayne. He stood and beckoned her over. "You're about Jamie's height and weight. There were a few bruises on the body. Now don't move yet while I get into place," he warned her, making her eyes go wide. What was he going to do?

Her breath caught when Sherlock wrapped one arm around her waist, hauling her back against him, his other arm wrapping around her right shoulder as his hand came over her mouth. Jayne could almost hear him roll his eyes. "Breathe, Jayne." Blushing at his

having to remind her, she growled at him and took a deep breath, making him chuckle.

"Now, I'm going to squeeze tighter and try to lift you. When I do, I want you to try to defend yourself as hard and desperately as possible. Understood?" Sherlock instructed.

Jayne nodded, already planning in her mind what she would do. But Sherlock was a hell of a lot stronger than she would have expected and when he picked her up, she squealed and began to fight back in fury and a slight sense of actual fear, since he squeezed her so tight she couldn't breathe. She tried to stomp on his foot, but he held her up too high (damn tall people!) so she flung her elbow back into his stomach, making him go "oof!" but he didn't release her. She felt her vision begin to fade around the edges as she began to run out of breath. Finally she swung her heel back as hard as she could, hitting Sherlock in the shin.

She heard him let out a sharp sounding curse and he dropped her to her feet and she elbowed him again, allowing her to feel his arms loosen so she could drag in a breath. She stomped on his foot as hard as she could, even barefoot. "Gah!" he shouted and she took off for the other side of the table as fast as she could, breathing hard. She watched him, wary that he'd jump at her again. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her breath whooshed through her lungs and she coughed hard as she tried to fill them.

"Jesus, Sherlock, you're strong!" she admitted.

"So are you. That was a hell of a method to get loose," he was still trying to catch his own breath where she'd knocked it out of him with her elbow. He had his hands on his knees and he was bent over.

"Let me guess, there were bruises on her elbows and some kind of trauma to the bottom of her foot. She tried to fight back, to get away." Jayne asked, taking a seat at the table. Sherlock, sensing that she had calmed down and that the experiment was over, took the seat across from her, all the better to watch her. "Yes." he said simply. But he seemed troubled.

"I know you feel responsible, Sherlock. But you truly shouldn't. You don't make them take these things on it. They decide." Feeling a little bold and scared as hell at the same time, Jayne touched the tips of her fingers to his, offering comfort, even in so small a measure. But it seemed to work, he didn't withdraw his fingers. She continued her observations, "You also have to remember that she did fight back, Sherlock. But she was in a weakened condition, she was dehydrated."

"She was also drugged. I thought it would be in the food, but there were no traces in the stomach contents, only in the blood. But there were no marks on her," Sherlock was frustrated, she could see it in the tightening around his eyes and the corners of his mouth.

Jayne balanced her chin on her hands, elbows propped on the table in a display of very bad manners that her mother would have been furious over. She closed her eyes and began humming softly, the tune Sherlock had been composing earlier. Her mind flashed through the pictures, over Sherlock's words and in some strange, deep part of her brain, over every episode of Sherlock, CSI and NCIS she'd ever watched. Suddenly her eyes popped open. "Sherlock, is Jamie's body still at St. Bart's?"

Surprised, he nodded. Jayne ran for the bedroom, yanking on a pair of shoes and a coat, but still dressed in her pajamas. Sherlock looked askance at her clothing. "Let's go. Molly's probably working tonight, right?"

"Yes, but…" he sounded surprised. Jayne grabbed his hand, "Let's go, Sherlock. I think I've figured out how the drugs got in her system, but I want to be there if I'm right." She teased him by adding, "I'll have thought of something Sherlock Holmes didn't!" She thought he was going to snarl at her so she laughed out loud as they hurried down the stairs, Jayne throwing open the door at the bottom of the stairs. They rushed out into the cold night air and Jayne shivered slightly.

She waited while Sherlock hailed a cab and they climbed into the warmth. The drive was fast, to Jayne, as she got her first real view of London. The past few days she'd felt trapped in the apartment. She knew that Mycroft would be watching her every movement, and she was absolutely positive that the cell phone he'd had Anthea give her was tracking her every movement. She wondered what Mycroft would think when he saw that she was on her way to St. Bart's.


	9. Chapter 9

At that moment, phones were ringing all over the office of Mycroft Holmes. "Sir, she's on the move. We're tracking the cell phone. If we're lucky, she won't remember to turn it off."

Sighing as if disappointed, Mycroft stared at the bank of computer screens, watching the slow steady pulse of a tiny red dot on the screen as it made it's way along the streets of London. "Do you have any idea where she's going? If she's going to meet Moriarty, I want to know exactly where the bastard's hiding. Immediately, do you hear me?"

And then he noticed something else, there was not one but two tiny flashing red dots occupying the same space. "Is that my brother's phone?" he asked in annoyance.

At the technician's quick nod, Mycroft let out a deep huff and growled. "Call off the tail. She's with my brother, he's probably dragged her out of a good night's sleep to assist him on some idiotic adventure. God only knows what he's going to subject her to at," he looked at his watch, "2:24 in the morning."

Actually, at that time, Jayne was still looking her fill as the streets of London passed as "Gangnam style" played on the radio of the cab. It was catchy, she thought, her fingers tapping out the rhythm. In annoyance, Sherlock gripped her fingers. Slightly ashamed, she stilled her fingers and blushed. "Sorry. Nervous habit," she said quickly.

He released her fingers and stared straight ahead as the cab stopped in front of St. Bartholomew's Hospital. Though she'd seen it often in the series, it was another matter entirely to be standing before the massive building in which so many scenes from episodes of Sherlock took place. Inner fan-girl felt like dancing, but restrained herself, not wanting to annoy Sherlock again. She gasped softly when Sherlock grabbed her hand and began dragging through the halls of the hospital while Jayne gaped as she looked around her. "It certainly smelled like a hospital," she thought, familiar with them from all the time spent in one after her surgery and subsequent radiation therapy treatments afterwards.

Within a few minutes, due to Sherlock's frantic pace, they were arriving at the entrance to the morgue. Sherlock simply pushed his way inside, dragging Jayne with him. Molly was surprised to see him, especially with Jayne in tow. "H-hello." she said softly, simply staring at Sherlock with a faint blush touching her cheeks.

"Hi Molly!" Jayne said enthusiastically, rushing over to give the petite woman a swift hug, shocking the poor woman even more. "Do you still have the body of Jamie Andrews?" Molly nodded and opened the freezer drawer and pulled the body out onto the sliding gurney. The body of the girl now seemed in a deep sleep, there was a peace there that Jayne was sure was all Molly's doing. She felt tears stinging her eyes, knowing that the poor girl had a family out there somewhere. Well she was damned if Jamie's killer was going to get away with what he'd done.

Jayne suddenly realized both Molly and Sherlock were watching her. "I'm waiting. Amaze me." Sherlock challenged, a smirk plastered on his face.

Jayne rolled her eyes and turned to Molly. "Molly, honey, do you have a magnifying glass I could borrow?" Molly pulled a small, folding one from her pocked and handed it to Jayne who smiled her thanks. She turned Jamie's head to the side and opened the magnifying glass, scanning through the girl's hair. Fifteen minutes later, she found what she was looking for. "Ahaha! Here, Sherlock, is the source of your drugs." She held the magnifying glass for him to look through. There, hidden by the girl's hair, was a puncture mark from a hypodermic needle.

Jayne would have sworn he'd growled at her, bending closer to Jaime's hair and combing through it to get a closer look. The mark was red and slightly raised now, surrounded by the pale skin of the girl's scalp. "You probably didn't see it before because her scalp would have been red and inflamed from the bastard pulling her hair. You said she'd only been dead a short time when she was found, you'd had your network searching for her." Jayne felt oddly nervous now, that maybe she shouldn't have been so fast to throw her find in Sherlock's face. She found herself second guessing herself.

She knew that he didn't take being less than brilliant all the time particularly well. She knew it frustrated him to no end when someone else pointed something out to him. She also knew that he didn't consider other people nearly worth his time and very few people measure up to his level of intelligence.

She felt Molly squeezing her hand gently. Molly knew exactly how she was feeling: nervous, afraid of annoying him, terrified that he would stalk off. But Sherlock wasn't moving, just sitting and staring at poor young Jamie as if her face held the answers he needed. Jayne suddenly yawned, feeling like her jaw was going to pop out of it's sockets. Molly looked the girl over. "You look like you need some coffee. Would you like a cup?"

Jayne smiled. "Don't like coffee, but I'd love some tea. He looks like he'll be busy in his thoughts for a while. We'll bring him back a coffee," Jayne decided as she and Molly walked out of the Morgue and up a level to the cafeteria. Jayne decided on a mug of hot tea, sweetened it with two sugars and couldn't pass up a small slice of chocolate-drizzled cheesecake that Molly assured her was quite good for being hospital food. When they turned to leave, she was surprised to see someone standing in the shadows, watching them.

But Molly recognized him, handed Sherlock's mug to Jayne and scurried towards her friend. Jayne smiled at Molly's retreating form and juggled the two mugs and small container holding her cheesecake and headed back downstairs towards the Morgue. She was grateful that it was a simple enough path, as she was a disaster at directions. She set Sherlock's coffee down beside him, he'd moved to the row of microscopes while they were gone, and settled on a chair away from the microscopes, it wouldn't do to accidentally get crumbs on the expensive equipment, and began to enjoy her very late dessert.

The tea warmed her insides and she wasn't aware that she was nodding off until she felt herself pitch forwards. Her arms wind milled wildly but she didn't fall. She soon saw why, when two strong hands were pushing back against her shoulders, keeping her from falling. She blushed and stuttered when she looked up into Sherlock's clearly amused face. "Oops," was all she could say.

She would have sworn that Sherlock's face cracked into a grin for a moment before he uttered simply, "Indeed." He held his hand out to her and she took it, standing and brushing crumbs off her pajama top. "What time is it?" she asked.

"6:30 in the morning, Jayne. I think you need a real bed instead of a stool." He helped her get her arms into her jacket, only because she was still brain fogged from her nap and her arms didn't want to work correctly. Steering her like a recalcitrant child, he pushed her out the door, barely letting her shout goodbye to Molly.

The cab ride back to the apartment seemed longer, as Jayne was tired enough to snuggle against Sherlock's side and doze off again and again. He rudely shook her when they arrived and she blinked sleepily and nearly fell out of the cab as she stepped out. Sherlock paid the cabbie and they walked up the stairs to the apartment. She squeaked out a gasp when she opened the door and Mycroft was sitting there, looking perturbed.

Sherlock looked annoyed when he glimpsed his brother. "This couldn't wait until a decent hour, brother?"

"Well, considering you found it acceptable to drag Miss Wyler out of bed at 2:24 in the morning, I assumed not." He looked annoyed and surprised when Sherlock snorted in derision.

Jayne blushed. "Actually, Mycroft, I'm the one that dragged him out of the apartment on a hunch. Which turned out to be correct, by the way." She grinned. Now Mycroft was DEFINITELY surprised.

"And what did you find out, my dear?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the chair expectantly.

Jayne looked at Sherlock, seeking his approval. He merely shrugged and so she sat the couch and began to explain about poor Jamie Andrews and the hidden needle puncture in her scalp. Mycroft was looking at her differently now, his eyes almost twinkling with curiosity and wonder. "How did you come up with that idea?" he finally asked.

Jayne squirmed and blushed. "I watch a lot of CSI and NCIS …and Sherlock episodes after work. Tivo'd them usually and would do mini marathons with my roomate and best friend Shirley." Sherlock had looked up swiftly at the mention of his name and the reference to the television show she'd told them all about. He still didn't believe her, but he admitted to himself that her story never changed.

Jayne quickly found the last dregs of her energy waning and she let out another jaw-splitting yawn. Mycroft smiled. "I'll say my good nights now. Pleasant dreams, Miss Wyler," he said, bowing over her and making her smile.

"Call me Jayne," she enthused, as he took her hand and shook it. "Jayne, then. Good night." he said pleasantly before looking at Sherlock. "Sherlock."

Sherlock returned his less than enthusiastic goodbye with one of his own. "Mycroft. As always, a pleasure." Sherlock retorted, his voice dripping sarcasm.

Mycroft left and Jayne, Sherlock found, had snuggled down into the pillows of the couch and was asleep again. He sighed and looked around, preferably for John, to help. Realizing there was no way out of it, he slid one arm around her shoulders and the other under her knees and lifted her. He was surprised at how little she weighed, since she considered herself fat (a tag that he constantly wanted to tell her wasn't true, at her present weight) and he'd expected her to weigh more heavily in his arms. He looked down on her sleeping face, feeling strange when she nuzzled her face into his chest and murmured his name.

Her carried her carefully into his bedroom and laid her gently on the bed, pulling up the blanket around her shoulders. He heard her whimpering and swiftly undressed, wrapping himself in his sheet and slid under the blankets with her, pulling her against him. He smiled when she instantly quieted, but went stock-still when her body turned to face his, her arm wrapping around him and her face pressed softly against his chest. He held himself rigid for a moment before his limbs, of their own free will, began to relax. He sighed and wrapped his arm around her back, placed his chin against the top of her head and closed his eyes. Within moments, he was as deeply asleep as Jayne was.


	10. Chapter 10

When Jayne woke, she felt ill. When she looked at the clock, and read that it was only eleven a.m., she realized why. "Definitely not enough sleep," she mumbled before turning onto her side and pulling the blanket around her shoulders. Unfortunately, before she could snuggle down into the pillows again, the blanket was ripped away from her and Sherlock stood at the end of the bed, looking at her expectantly. "What?! Sherlock! Give me black the blanket, I'm tired and it's cold in here." She held her hand out expectantly, only to realize with a groan that Sherlock was already gone, taking the blanket with him. Sighing, she sat up, pulled on some clothes and shuffled into the kitchen.

Sherlock stood there with a steaming mug of tea, waiting in anticipation; but for what, Jayne didn't know. She took the mug and sipped it gingerly. She was surprised that it was already sweetened; she looked over the rim of the mug at him. But she supposed it wasn't that odd, he did have a way with memorization. She wondered what a look at his brain would be like. "Sherlock, have you ever had brain scans done?" she asked, without thinking.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "My father had them done on me as a young teenager," he confirmed. As if finally realizing she wasn't going anywhere before she had her tea and some breakfast, he huffed and sat down at the table, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I bet they were fascinating," she murmured before turning to the cupboard and pulling down a loaf of bread. She listened as he replied simply that, "the neurologist seemed to think so." She nodded and put a couple of slices into the toaster that she'd unearthed the day before. She took eggs out of the refrigerator and began whisking them with a little milk in a large bowl. She put a skillet on the stove, turning the flame up to heat the skillet. She searched the fridge and quickly found a small bag of shredded cheese and decided it would do for a quick breakfast. She scrambled the eggs quickly and topped it with cheese. She slid half of it on two plates, buttered each slice of toast and put a piece on each plate before placing one in front of Sherlock before sitting down with her own.

Sherlock blinked in surprise. He honestly couldn't remember the last time someone, besides Jayne, had taken the time to make him eat, let alone make him breakfast. Sensing that he would get a fight out of her if he protested, he simply began eating, though quickly. He wondered why he was constantly astonished at the food she made, she had proved time and time again that she was a pretty exceptional cook. She took a sip of her tea and grinned at him. "I still can't believe you made me get up already," she teased.

From her tone, he knew she was teasing, but he still swiftly glanced at her face to check for signs of true anger or annoyance. Seeing none, he felt a small smile flash across his face. She was just as eager for a new adventure as he was! If he'd been John, he was sure he'd have said some ridiculous phrase like, "SCORE!" or something. But being who he was, Sherlock simply finished eating and waited for her to do the same. It annoyed him a little when she insisted on washing the dishes they'd used and leaving a note for John. When she'd finished, he took her hand and let her down the stairs and out into the hustle and bustle that was London.

"Much different than the night before", Jayne thought, as she looked around. Noises seemed louder and more shrill, the sounds of the traffic and of people on the streets seemed to assault her ears. The sun was stuck behind some clouds and yet the world seemed brighter and more stark than it had in the darkness of the night. As before, Sherlock hailed a shiny black cab and they slid inside. It wasn't until she looked down that she realized that Sherlock hadn't released her hand. Her inner fan girl was doing somersaults. She tried to keep the blush from crawling up her cheeks, but was pretty certain that she hadn't succeeded, so she kept her head down a little so that Sherlock hopefully wouldn't decipher the reason why she was blushing yet again.

The finally pulled up along the river in front of a house that was in serious disrepair. But there were a few discrepancies as far as its level of decay. The windows were still intact, unlike the two houses nearby, whose were shattered. "Most likely by kids throwing rocks," Jayne thought. There were overgrown weeds and bushes at the edges of the property, but in front of those windows, the bushes had been artfully made to look overgrown, but were low enough to see through the windows to the road. As she walked closer to the house, she realized that a fresh layer of gravel had been laid down, letting her footsteps be heard clearly. "Whoever was here, they wanted to know if someone was coming," she commented, knowing that Sherlock was testing her, in his own little ways.

He continued to watch her as she made her way around the house. He knew when she saw the broken window with blood splatters on the wood around it. He knew when she saw the blond hairs caught on the nail at the corner of the windowsill where the window had been nailed shut. He heard her growl low in her throat when she saw the small piece of cloth that had matched Jamie Andrew's jacket.

He felt something in his insides clench when she closed her eyes and he saw her uttering a prayer for a girl she didn't even know. For most people, he knew it was a simple platitude, Jayne was different, she meant the words she said, asking a blessing for Jamie's family and peace for them as well. And then he saw her utter something completely different and had to rerun the lip-reading through his mind again to make sure it was what he'd read. "We will find the bastard, and he will pay, Jamie."

Suddenly a horn honked and Sherlock and Jayne's heads both flew up to see a car sitting in the roadway, a police car to be precise. "Shit!" Sherlock heard Jayne say softly before Lestrade stepped out of the car. And then it was if her apprehension melted away. "Hello, Greg!" she called and waved at him, surprising both Sherlock and Lestrade. DI Lestrade came and stood by Sherlock, looking over towards Jayne.

"What's she doing?" he asked, interested in Jayne's presence. "Observing," Sherlock said, almost proudly. They both went quiet as Jayne walked towards them.

"Well, they were obviously waiting for someone to come, to determine Jamie's usefulness. Jamie must have overheard something and tried to get away, that's why she was killed. They missed something, though. Greg, when you pulled up, it was almost silently, because you were moving so slowly. Whoever tried to booby trap this place for people coming too close didn't put down anything loud enough on the street itself. Someone could have crept up on them on the street by driving slowly and then walking the perimeter along the grass. When you come around that curve there," she said, pointing to one side of the house, "there's no windows, there's grass to cover footsteps and it's close to the fence. If Jamie had gotten out slowly and quietly, she could have had someone come and get her, hidden until the car pulled up slowly and gotten out. Something happened before she could escape that way."

"What do you think?" Greg asked.

"I think someone very bad was coming and Jamie was desperate to escape. She almost did, that's when she was drugged. There were spatters of blood inside, I saw them through the window, I'm quite certain that they aren't Jamie's, the spatter's too light and too short of a span for the injury she got from the nail on the window. I think whoever drugged her got in trouble and someone punched him. I almost hope they broke his nose," Jayne said, animosity in her voice for the man who'd killed young Jamie.

"They failed in their job to hold her and keep her quiet. I'm certain they were reprimanded, Jayne." Sherlock said, reaching out to pull a flake of paint from near her eye without realizing he'd even done it. He'd stopped listening to Lestrade and Jayne, his concentration on the loose flake of strange green paint. Paint that didn't match either the flaking red paint on the outside of the house or the white paint on the shutters and frames. Jayne's voice suddenly broke through his deep concentration.

"Greg, I know that you're having a rough time with your wife, would you like to come to supper?" Jayne asked. Greg looked slightly terrified of Jayne, as if she'd read his mind about the situation with his spouse. He looked to Sherlock for help, but Sherlock was merely smirking at him.

"Uh…um, sure. Thank you, Miss…umm…Jayne. Should I bring anything?" he asked, trying to be polite.

"Just yourself." Jayne said pleasantly. Sherlock, by this time, had put the paint chip into a small plastic bag to protect it from contamination and was surprised when Jayne took his hand. "Come along, Sherlock, we have some shopping to do before our dinner guests arrive."

Sighing, Sherlock allowed himself to be dragged along behind, giving Lestrade a shrug. "What can you do?" his shrug seemed to say. Their still-waiting cabbie turned the engine on, music blasting from the open windows. Lestrade climbed into his car and headed for home to shower and change into a clean suit before supper as Jayne and Sherlock's cab took them to the local grocery store.

While Jayne shopped, Sherlock used his phone to find out more about the paint chip. The color was quite unusual, and Sherlock wasn't surprised to find out that it was used in industrial buildings. He filed that bit of information away in his mind as Jayne dragged him to the checkout machine. She grinned when he tried to hand her his card; she pushed it away and pulled out the card Mycroft had given her. "Make him want to stop by and see what we bought!" she giggled.

He let Jayne carry the bags out to the cab, she'd smacked at his hands when he'd dutifully tried to help. When they finally walked into the apartment, Jayne headed right for the kitchen. Sherlock wandered in behind her, leaning against the doorway and watching her cook, something he found himself doing often lately. There was something about the way she moved, it was almost dancer-like. She sang while she cooked, cutting potatoes into large chunks and placing them into a pot of cold water before turning the flame on high. She cut up onions and carrots, placing them on a baking dish and placing a rack over them. Onto the rack she put thick-cut steaks that she'd sprinkled with salt and pepper that she'd ground fresh. He knew that the pot, baking dish, baking rack and pepper grinder had not been there that morning. He suddenly began to wonder what all she'd bought with Mycroft's card. The thought that she'd spent quite a deal of his brother's money made him smile.

A knock on the door made him frown, however. He opened the door and true to Jayne's word, there stood Mycroft.


	11. Chapter 11

**An extra chapter for you all in honor of my Best Friend's birthday! **

Before Sherlock could even growl at his brother, Jayne was popping her head out of the kitchen. "Ah, Mycroft! Come in, please. You'll stay to supper, won't you?" Feeling a bit overwhelmed by the woman-turned-whirlwind that was Jayne, Mycroft stepped inside the apartment. Huffing, Sherlock stalked to the window, picked up his violin and began to play violently, the tune furious. Jayne thought she recognized the tune as one she'd heard Sherlock play before, one of his own compositions. She didn't realize she'd begun humming along as she cooked, but Mycroft certainly did.

Like Sherlock, Mycroft stood in the doorway of the kitchen and watched Jayne cook. She slid the roasting pan of steaks into the hot oven, setting a timer on the counter. He noticed with approval that the kitchen was spotless, the cabinets were wiped clean, the small window over the sink sparkled. Dishes were put away and there were no signs of his brother's odd experiments anywhere. "They're in the refrigerator," Jayne said, as if knowing what he was thinking. He felt his face flush brightly, but Jayne merely smiled at him and motioned for him to sit at the table.

He made his way there as pompously as possibly, as though she hadn't withered his pride immediately when he saw that she was neither in league with Moriarty (as far as he'd been able to determine) or out to steal his money. The only things she'd bought were items she'd needed for the kitchen, and he couldn't fault her for buying the best money could buy at the local market. A small smile crossed his face; perhaps he should send her a small gift, an entire set of the finest cookware available, perhaps.

The door opened and John appeared in the kitchen doorway just as Jayne was placing a cup of tea in front of Mycroft. John was absolutely surprised to see Mycroft sitting there, and after seeing him, wasn't as surprised to see Sherlock sulking in the corner and playing his violin. As John went to shut the door, there was a knock on the doorframe and DI Lestrade was standing there, looking distinctly uncomfortable and out of place. "Well hello, Greg. Come in!" John exclaimed, opening the door for him.

"Greg! In here, supper's almost ready!" Jayne called from the kitchen. John and Greg were both rather shocked to see Mycroft sitting at the table, talking with Jayne, a cup of tea in one hand as if he visited every day and enjoyed a chat. Jayne stood at the stove, stirring some kind of chopped greens, it looked like spinach to John, in a large cast-iron skillet. The timer next to the stove went off and Jayne pulled the steaks from the oven, placing a large piece of aluminum foil overtop of it, she explained it was called "tenting" and would keep the steaks hot while the juices inside redistributed.

She began to pour the potatoes into a large steel colander, draining them of all the water that had been in the pot. John watched over her shoulder, Greg and Mycroft still at the table, while she replaced the pot on the burner, melting half a stick of butter. She added the potatoes back to the pot and began mashing them, stirring in salt and cream. By this time, John could feel his stomach growling and was almost certain he heard Greg's doing the same. Even Mycroft looked uncomfortably aware of how very good the kitchen smelled.

Jayne placed the food on platters, scooping the roasted onions and carrots into a bowl and dotting it with butter that quickly melted. She drizzled the spinach with a little balsamic vinegar and sprinkled it with sea salt. She placed a bowl of the mashed potatoes on the table and a platter piled with the steaks steamed in the center of the table. When she finally decided everything looked right, Jayne passed around plates and silverware.

She stepped into the living room and walked over towards Sherlock. "Sherlock, supper's ready," she said softly. He stopped playing and simply looked at her. She was heated and flushed from the heat of the kitchen, her shirt rumpled and a small stain spotted the front of her blouse.

"Why do you try so hard to impress them?" He asked sincerely, confused by all the endeavor she'd put into the meal. He honestly didn't understand how she could put that much work into something that would only last for a short time and actually enjoy it. It seemed rather like a waste of effort to him.

She smiled. "Because I want them to like me, Sherlock. I want them to feel comfortable here. Until the apartment downstairs is ready, this is my home too, Sherlock. Now come into the kitchen for supper, please."

"Not hungry," he sighed and picked up his violin to begin playing again. She gripped his wrist and he saw a flash of anger in her eyes. "Sherlock Holmes, I just put a lot of effort into a FAMILY meal. You're part of my family here. Now come in and eat. Or I swear on all that's holy, I will break every single string on that violin."

He grumbled, but allowed Jayne to push him into the kitchen and sat down with an ungentlemanly thump into the chair she gestured him to. "Well then, who's hungry?" she asked unnecessarily, as Greg, John and Mycroft all seemed to be equally ready to tear into the meal with her blessing. She laughed to herself and began pouring tall glasses of icy cold lemonade, while John placed steaks on each plate and the others began passing around the bowls of spinach, mashed potatoes and roasted vegetables.

Jayne wanted to laugh yet again, when she looked up from her own plate and realized that everyone had gone quiet, enjoying the meal with looks of rapture on their faces. Well, everyone except Sherlock. He was watching everyone else and had barely taken a bite. Jayne pinched him under the table, causing him to glare at her. While everyone but the two of them was involved with eating, she mimed popping the strings on his violin. He rolled his eyes at her and looked down at his plate, smirking at the thought that he'd gotten under her skin, but began eating.

When they were all finished, Greg and John were leaning back in their chairs, hands on their stomachs. Mycroft was very nearly doing the same thing, but looking much more prim and proper, with his wrists resting on the table's edge. "If you're all done, I'll clear the table and serve dessert?" Jayne asked, wondering if they could even still eat dessert with as much food as they'd eaten. All except Sherlock, she'd put his plate in the refrigerator for later.

Greg looked at her like she'd suddenly sprouted wings and a halo. "You made dessert?" he asked, sounding awed. "From scratch?" he exclaimed, knowing he hadn't seen a bakery box or a boxed mix anywhere when he'd arrived.

John was grinning. "I told you she was a saint."

Jayne blushed at John's praise. "I'm no saint, John. But I hope you all like chocolate cake." She pulled a tall chocolate cake covered with white chocolate frosting and a drizzle of dark chocolate from the refrigerator, basking in the "oohs" and "ahhs" of John, Greg and even Mycroft. As always, Sherlock merely watched, but felt his insides twist when Jayne served him first.

The chocolate cake was deeply rich and fudgy, and even Jayne moaned softly with the first bite. By the time everyone was scraping their plates for that last crumb, Jayne felt strangely fulfilled by giving everyone a good meal and a nice evening. First Mycroft, then Greg, said their good nights and thanked her profusely for supper. "Next Sunday, same time. I expect you both to be here," Jayne said, kissing them both on the cheek. She nearly giggled when they both blushed, Mycroft clearing his throat loudly. She closed the door behind them, leaned back against it and sighed, smiling.

She felt that it had been quite a successful evening, and truthfully, she'd always been curious what a "family" meal between Sherlock and Mycroft would be like. She hadn't been surprised when Sherlock had been sulky and quiet throughout the meal. But he'd eaten almost everything on his plate, knowing she'd annoy him to no end unless he did. While Jayne fully admitted she loved Sherlock's slim physique, she also knew that not eating for days on end was entirely unhealthy. She was just glad he'd been eating and sleeping the last few days that she'd been there. Jayne knew it wouldn't catch his body up on sleep or calories, but it was a start.


	12. Chapter 12

Jayne headed back into the kitchen to begin cleanup after the lovely meal with Mycroft, Lestrade, John and Sherlock. She sang to herself as she cleaned, scrubbing the counters and stove until they sparkled. She laughed to herself, she'd never been much of a housekeeper in her own place, but she was fiercely determined to keep up with the apartment here. It was probably just all the excitement, she decided. She seemed to have more energy and besides, she was mostly stuck inside by herself. Sherlock didn't always count, when he was inside his own mind more often than not and John was gone to work or out on a date. And she was a little afraid to go outside of the apartment on her own. Who knew when Moriarty would show up, or Mycroft would kidnap her for tea if she stepped outside?

She was a little surprised when John walked into the kitchen and kissed her cheek. "That was a wonderful dinner. Do you want some help?" he asked, looking as though he'd bravely step up to help if need be, but would much rather be gone. She smiled. "No, John, I'm almost finished. Why don't you go ahead and go to bed, I know you have to be up early in the morning for work."

John nodded and headed off towards the bathroom to shower before bed. "He really hates kitchen cleanup," came a voice from the doorway. Jayne's head jerked up from where she'd been washing the dishes. She grinned at Sherlock. "Yes, I know. That's why I told him to shoo."

"Shoo?" he smirked. And amazed her when he began to roll his sleeves up and took over the rinsing of the dishes. They worked in companionable silence for a few minutes until the dishes were clean and placed in the drain rack. Sherlock dried his hands on a towel before handing it to her. She tried to ignore those strange ever-changing green-gray-blue eyes that seemed to be staring holes through her.

Finally she couldn't take the stare anymore. "What?" she asked, exasperated. He grinned at her and she smacked him on the arm. "You just like to make people squirm don't you?" she teased him. He rubbed his arm where she'd landed quite a blow as he followed her out of the kitchen. She settled herself onto the couch, leaning her head on the cushion.

He stood there watching her for a few minutes before she spoke, her eyes still closed. "Sherlock?"

"Yes, Jayne?" he inquired, feeling a bit bored. He hoped her question wasn't something very involved. He was almost desperate to leave, to wander the streets of London, to find a new case, something that would take hold of his mind. Something that would take his mind off of the enigma that was Miss Jayne Alexis Wyler.

She couldn't see him, but she somehow knew that he was smirking, probably expecting her to ask him to elaborate on some past case that he'd heard her express an interest in. So she was happy when she could hear the surprise in his voice when she asked instead, "Could you play for me?"

"Play?" he was a little taken aback when she asked. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd been asked to play for someone, even as a child. Hesitating slightly, he walked over the stand where he kept his music and the shelf where his violin lay. He picked it up and turned to look at Jayne. Her eyes were still closed, as if absorbing all the sound in the room. "Is there anything in particular you'd like to hear?" he asked, reminded of the endless violin lessons and recitals he'd been forced to attend as a child before he'd refused to attend the classes as a teenager. His voice was a little angry as he remembered and he immediately cursed himself inwardly. Jayne wasn't used to him, and for some reason he actually cared what she thought; though he often pretended, or at least attempted, to hold her in the same contempt he held almost everyone else. Mrs. Hudson, John and Lestrade not included.

Jayne sighed softly, almost sleepily, and nodded. "Something peaceful, something serene," she requested. Sherlock thought for a moment before closing his eyes and drawing the bow across the strings, a slow, long note resounding through the room as he began to play one of his own compositions. He didn't notice the small smile that played over Jayne's lips at the tune filled the air. As Jayne listed, it felt as though her brain was following the harmony, lifting and dipping with the highs and lows of the melody. The music was hauntingly beautiful and seemed to echo into the quietness of Jayne's mind and within moments she was asleep.

When Sherlock pulled the bow across the strings for the last time, he opened his eyes and saw a deeply sleeping Jayne. Exasperated, he looked down at her. _This is becoming a bad habit_, he thought to himself as he put his violin away and slid his arms around Jayne to lift her. Once more, she slid her arms around his neck, turning her face into his chest.

He held her more securely in his arms and carefully carried her to his bed. He laid her down, preparing to leave before he decided to help her sleep easier by sliding her shoes off. Her face still looked pinched and Sherlock determined from her sleepy tugging at her jeans meant she was still uncomfortable; and so he also removed her jeans and top, gently so as not to wake her. It left her in only her underwear and the tank top that she'd been wearing under the blouse. Deciding she looked comfortable enough, he pulled the blanket up around her shoulders and left, closing the door quietly. He certainly didn't need her waking up and asking him to sleep with her again.

He was still carrying Jayne's clothes, however, when John's door flew open. John, who'd woken with a desperate need to urinate, gaped at Sherlock. He was actually staring down at Jayne's clothes; clothes that he knew she'd been wearing when he'd gone to bed.

"Sherlock…why are you holding Jayne's clothes? Oh my god, Sherlock, tell me you didn't UNDRESS her!" John exclaimed, holding a hand over his eyes as if to undo the sight before him.

Sherlock merely rolled his eyes. "She was uncomfortable, John. Of course I undressed her. Not everyone is merely as occupied with the female form as you are. I'm above all that, remember? I think you would remember, you tell me I am often enough. Good night, John." Sherlock said, tossing Jayne's clothes on top of the laundry basket before walking out the door, slamming it shut behind him, leaving John to let out an exasperated sigh and go back to bed.

When Jayne woke the next morning, to a bed empty of its other usual occupant, it was to a loud, rather annoying, banging sound. She quickly dressed and walked into the kitchen to find John on his back under the cabinet beneath the sink. She watched as he banged on the pipe with a large wrench. "John, what are you doing?" Jayne asked.

Grunting as he tried to turn the bolt, he replied, "I have a date tonight. A real fancy place; I was cleaning my cufflinks, accidentally dropped one down the sink." Jayne heard him sigh.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing?" She asked softly.

"No, not really." he answered, letting the wrench drop to his side, glaring up at the pipe. _I'm not quite awake enough for this_, he thought to himself.

Jayne smiled and crouched on the floor beside him. "Want me to take a stab at it?" she asked. He looked at her and grinned, but handed over the wrench, expecting that she would give up as he had and then he'd call for the plumber. Those were diamond cufflinks his sister had given him for his last birthday; he wasn't giving up on them being saved. Yet. He scooted out of the way so that Jayne could take his place.

Jayne pulled a hair tie from around her wrist, fastening it back so that it wouldn't get in her way. She laid back, looking up at the bent pipe in front of her eyes. She smiled and reached up, loosening the bolts on both sides of the bend. She pulled it down carefully, splashing only a little water on herself. She stood up and grabbed a large bowl, turning the pipe over carefully. A small amount of water flowed out of the pipe and then a soft ping as the cufflink hit the glass bowl. John shouted in triumph and hugged her.

She laughed and told John, "Next time you want to clean something that valuable, I suggest filling a bowl with water and washing it in there, not over the sink where you'll lose it."

"How did you do that, Jayne? Most women I know barely know the names of the tools I ask for, let alone how to take a pipe apart." John asked, smiling at her as he thought back over all the women he'd known and dated. Not a single one of them had known the difference between a hammer and a hand grenade.

Jayne snickered. "I probably would be those girls too, except that I was always following my uncles and my dad around, while they would fix things. They were kind of Jack of all trades-men." She quickly replaced the pipe, tightening the bolts securely so that they wouldn't leak anymore, as there was quite a large puddle under the sink where it had dripped. She hadn't heard Sherlock come in or know that he'd been watching her until she slid out from under the sink and saw him looking down at her.

"Any other talents you're hiding?" he asked, that smirk that was so very much a part of Sherlock on his face.

"That would be giving away my secrets. You're supposed to figure those out, Sherlock." Jayne replied, winking at him. She chuckled and stood up, swearing when she realized this was the last of the clean shirts Anthea had brought her. "Damn. Sherlock, do you have Molly's number?" He looked surprised, but nodded.

"Why do you need Miss Hooper's number?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, being as how you're a man and probably hate shopping as much as any other man does, and the fact that I have a terrible sense of direction, AND this is a city that I'm totally unfamiliar with, I thought I'd see if she wouldn't mind being my shopping buddy. I'm certainly not going with Anthea or Agent Donovan." Jayne explained.

"Very well. But don't keep her long, I'll need her this evening." Sherlock groused, handing over his phone so that Jayne could copy Molly's number. Jayne smiled at Sherlock and headed towards Sherlock's room. Sherlock frowned as he could hear the conversation from his end.

"Hi, Molly? This is Jayne…yes, the one staying with Sherlock and John. I was wondering if you had any plans for today? No? Great! Would you like to go shopping with me?" Jayne's voice floated from inside his room. And Sherlock, being in a rather grumpy mood, stalked out to the streets of London once again. This time, he hoped, his mind would not expend most of its energy remembering how Jayne had looked in just her tank top and panties.


	13. Chapter 13

In a move that Jayne didn't expect, Molly didn't take her to a big store like Harrod's. Instead Molly drove them-in her little car that took up very little space and reminded Jayne a bit of Molly herself-to a small clothing shop a few streets over from Molly's own apartment. A tiny older woman with gray-streaked blonde hair and a penchant for peacock-printed blazers rushed to Molly and enveloped her in a gigantic hug. "Molly, my dear! It's so good to see you! How have you been? And who is this lovely creature?" the woman asked, appraising Jayne.

"Margie, this is my friend Jayne. She's in desperate need of everything." Molly seemed to think for half a second before proclaiming, "She's on vacation from the States and her bag got lost! Isn't that a shame? But you were the first person I thought of who I knew could help!"

Margie stuck her hand out in obvious welcome to Jayne. "Any friend of Molly's is a friend of mine. Now tell me, dear, what kind of clothes are you looking for? We carry a little bit of everything, from everyday, office wear, club clothes, even a few gowns for those special occasions. And yes, even lingerie, too. Where do you think we should begin?" Margie asked, looking Jayne over.

"Lingerie, first, I think." Jayne said, her eyes drawn immediately to a beautiful pair of purple satin-and-lace panties with a matching bra. She blushed when she realized there was even a matching garter belt. "Oh my. That's lovely." She said, pointing at the set.

Margie practically cackled with glee. "Have a young man, do you, dearie? I assure you, you will dazzle him in that!" Jayne blushed an ever brighter shade of cherry red as Margie hurried over to gather the exquisite set of lingerie. "No young man yet, Margie, but there's always hope." Jayne giggled.

Molly grabbed Jayne's arm and steered her towards the everyday clothing. Jayne could feel Mycroft's card practically burning a hole in her pocket. She and Molly rifled through the beautiful blouses and sweaters that Jayne favored, though she did drag out a couple of hoodies and Tshirts as well. One had a phrase that made her laugh, "Do not meddle in the affairs of Dragons, for you are crunchy and good with ketchup." and had a picture of a large green dragon reclining against a castle using a knight's lance as a toothpick, the knight's shield laying on the ground smoking. She showed it to Molly who laughed as well. When Molly showed Jayne a rather horrid looking sweater, Jayne decided it was time to implement Plan Molly.

"No, Molly, that's not your color! Let me!" Jayne said, and began flipping through the blouses, coming on a pale peach colored blouse with carved coral snaps. "Try this one, Molls. I think it will really suit you." Molly gingerly took the shirt, not wanting to offend Jayne. She stepped into the dressing room and returned in a few moments, in the shirt. Jayne practically beamed. "Molly, that's perfect on you!" she whispered.

At that moment, Margie returned, carrying the boxed purple lingerie set and placed it on the counter. She gasped as she saw Molly. "Oh! My dear, you look simply SMASHING in that color! Why haven't we tried it on you before? Your skin looks brighter, your cheeks pinker, your eyes simply POP!"

Molly blushed and smiled, and asked Jayne and Margie in a soft, timid voice, "Really?"

"Definitely, Molly. Stay there, I'm getting more clothes for you to try on!" Jayne cried, hurrying towards the racks. Within five minutes, she'd returned with an armful of clothing: soft, wispy blouses in pale pastels that would flatter Molly's skin tone and show off her figure; A-line skirts that flared towards the bottom to show off her toned legs, skinny jeans that would do the same. Jayne skipped over the sweaters with prints and designs, opting instead for solid colors, in slightly more muted pastels, over white or black turtlenecks. Each choice was met with approval from Margie, who applauded Jayne's eye for color and fashion to suit Molly's body shape and coloring.

"You have quite an eye, Jayne. If your vacation funds run low, perhaps you'd consider working part time here at the shop?" Margie asked, appraising Jayne's reaction to her offer.

Jayne smiled, incredibly pleased. She liked Margie and would love to work for her. But her smile faltered after a moment. After all, she didn't know how permanent her being in Sherlock's world would be. Or if it was permanent, if Mycroft would let her stay or ship her back to America. An America she didn't really know. "I'd love to, Margie, I really would, but I'm afraid I don't know how long I'll be staying." she answered truthfully.

"Well, that's quite all right, dear. But if you figure it out, here, take my card. My numbers are on the back and if you figure out what your schedule will be like, give me a call." Margie handed her a beautifully printed card with the numbers for the shop and Margie's cell phone number on it.

Jayne gathered a few more items for her closet: several pencil-style skirts and two blazers to mix and match them. She was rather surprised that the total was less than she had expected. She carried three large bags to Molly's car, Molly carrying two of her own. She looked at the clock and realized they'd been shopping for almost 3 hours, and her stomach was starting to growl. "Now then, Molly. Are you hungry? How about lunch?" Jayne asked.

"Oh, that would be fun! Where should we go?"

"Well," Jayne said, "I don't like to leave John and Sherlock on their own for too long, heaven only knows what kind of trouble they'd get into." Jayne giggled, thinking of the episodes of Sherlock she'd watched. And all the trouble those two got into.

"Oh." Molly said, sounding disappointed. "Well, if you want to go home, we can do lunch another time."

"Oh Molly, don't think that, I'm having a wonderful time! I was just going to suggest we go back to the apart…flat, and I'd make lunch, if you'd like that?" Jayne said, touching Molly's arm gently to console her. _Poor Molly_, Jayne thought. _She was so unsure of herself. So timid and gentle._

"Oh, that sounds wonderful! I haven't had a real home-cooked meal since my Dad died." Molly said.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Molly." Jayne felt sadness for her friend flash through her. She rubbed Molly's arm gently. "Ok then, how does spaghetti with meat sauce sound?" Jayne asked.

Molly grinned. "That's my favorite! Well, that and lasagna."

"Spaghetti it is. We'll do lasagna the next time. Do you like mushrooms, green peppers and onions?" Jayne asked, making a mental list in her head of what all she'd need, as Molly drove to the nearby grocery.

"Yes, yes, and yes. Ooh, and garlic bread too?" Molly asked, grabbing her purse and stepping out of the car. She led the way while Jayne followed. They grabbed a small shopping basket and wandered the aisles a little, grabbing what they needed. Molly showed Jayne some of her favorite cookies and snacks, making Jayne crave homemade cookies. So she dragged Molly to the baking aisle, grabbing flour, butter, sugar, chocolate chips and the other ingredients she would need for home made chocolate chip cookies.

Ten minutes later they'd finally gotten through check out and were walking back to the car. Jayne had just put the groceries into the back seat when she heard Molly shout and looked up to see Molly wide eyed and looking past Jayne. Jayne whirled around and came face to face with the large, looming black barrel of a gun.


	14. Chapter 14

Well, sorry this is a bit late, everyone. Had planned to post it this weekend, but my Mom had taken my flashdrive with her to WV when she went to visit my sister and meet my new niece!

~J.

* * *

As much as she wanted to scream, Jayne knew it was more important to stay calm, breathe, and most importantly not to pass out and leave Molly unprotected. She stared at the barrel of the gun, following the line up the arm of the man holding it and up to his face covered in a ski mask. His eyes were a deep green and were void of any emotion. They were cold, dead eyes and that terrified Jayne more than anything. She felt a chill race down her spine.

"Give me your wallet and credit cards. Now!" he shouted, causing Molly to squeak in fear. Jayne showed the man her hands, reaching carefully into her pocket to grab the card Mycroft had given her. She figured there was probably some kind of embedded encoding that would let Mycroft cancel the card immediately. Right now, she was much more concerned with Molly, who was frightened and frightened people made mistakes that could get them killed. Not that Jayne wasn't equally terrified, but for some reason, she was more worried about poor Molly. Maybe because she knew that somehow, Molly was important to Sherlock.

She handed the card out to the mugger, he snatched it from her fingers and began to inch his way around the car towards Molly. "Wait! Just…just stay there and I'll have her hand it to me and I'll… I'll give it to you, Ok?" Jayne stammered out, the twitchy gunman making her more and more nervous.

"Ok. But hurry it up! I'm getting impatient!" He shouted at Jayne. Jayne carefully reached out for Molly's cash. Molly thrust it into Jayne's hand. She watched his eyes focus on the cash, instead of what she was doing. She shouted, "Molly get into the car!" and threw the wad of bills as far past the gunman as she could and threw herself into the car.

The gunman shouted at her and she heard a shot ring out as she was slamming the door but she saw the gunman rush towards the cash before the wind could blow it away. Molly slammed her foot down onto the gas pedal, shooting the car forwards and away from the gunman. Feeling both shock and numbness, she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and called Mycroft quickly.

"Jayne?" his voice sounded strange and she wondered if he'd somehow caught the robbery on one of his CCTV cameras. Sure enough, he continued with, "I saw what you did. That was both very brave and very dangerous. Are you alright?" The minute he asked, Jayne became aware of a strange throbbing feeling in her arm. She turned her head to look and let out a fierce, "Dammit!"

"What's wrong?!" Both Molly and Mycroft shouted at her, making her wince. Jayne turned to face Molly and held the phone to her ear again. "Well, it seems that while I thought I was alright, I have, in fact, been shot." She grimaced and showed Molly her sleeve; blood was pouring from both sides, from two small holes surrounded by burns created by a bullet traveling at blinding velocity. Molly gunned the engine and from the direction they were now heading, Jayne could only assume they were heading for St. Bart's.

Molly also snatched the phone from Jayne's hand, which was now beginning to go numb as well. "Mycroft, I'm almost to St. Bart's, I'll take her straight to Emergency. I'll call you when we're there." She slammed her thumb down on the END button and dropped the phone into the console, turning her attention mostly back to the road. "Jayne, you stay awake, now. Do you hear me?" She shouted at Jayne, sounding a bit desperate.

Jayne _**was **_feeling a bit tired. She knew it was a mixture of blood loss, shock and adrenaline letdown. Now that she was out of the dangerous situation with the gunman, her body's adrenaline wasn't coursing through her anymore and she was sorely feeling the lack of it. She quickly found that she was struggling to keep her eyes. She could hear Molly faintly calling her name.

She didn't hear Molly screaming at her, she didn't feel the arms of the orderlies grabbing her and hauling her onto a gurney and racing her into the operating room. She wasn't awake when Mycroft, with John and Sherlock arrived a short time later. John consoled Molly while Sherlock stood outside the hospital smoking the single cigarette that Mycroft allowed him. Mycroft was on the phone finding out what he could about the assailant.

When John had told Sherlock that Jayne had been shot, Sherlock had gone stiff and his eyes had gone hard as John had told him what had happened. John had gone to grab his coat to drive to St. Bart's and when he'd come back out, Sherlock was gone. He'd hurried downstairs after him to find Sherlock sitting in a cab and waiting for them. He had seen several of Sherlock's homeless network scurrying away quickly, but hadn't thought anything of it.

They were all sitting in the waiting room when Lestrade strode in, with Mrs. Hudson, looking grim. "How is she?" he asked. Mycroft filled him in and Molly and Mrs. Hudson were speaking quietly when the doctor came out. She was out of danger, but would be stuck in the hospital for a few days while they watched for infection. The doctor tried to get everyone to leave, but not a single one of them would leave until they saw her.

A ringing phone caught all of their attention and Lestrade saw that it was his phone. In the presence of all of them, he spoke, "Yes? They've found him? What? Turned himself in? Yeah, yeah, I'll be there in a while." He closed his phone and looked at the others. "It seems that the man who shot Jayne simply walked into the police station, with the gun, and turned himself in. They're checking his story and everything, but that's basically preliminaries for now. He still had the cash and your card, Mycroft."

John had to lower his face to hide his smile. It seemed that Sherlock's homeless network got the job done more quickly than even Mycroft and his unlimited, expansive power. Suddenly a nurse appeared at the doorway of the waiting room. "Are you the family of…Jayne Wyler?" she asked, peering down at the chart in her hands.

"Yes," they all stated confidently, looking at each other and smiling. The nurse smiled. "Well, she's awake and asking for you." She stepped back and looked up and down the hallway. "I can let you in for now, for a little while, since she wants to see you all, but you'll have to leave before the doctor catches you." They all nodded their assent, and the young nurse led them to Jayne's room.

Jayne was sitting upright in the bed, her eyes sleepy and shadowed. "Hey, guys!" she spoke softly, her throat sore from the removal of the breathing tube. She blushed when she looked at Molly. "I think I'm going to need a rain check on that spaghetti, Molly." Molly's eyes filled with tears and she nodded her head quickly. "That's ok, let's just get you well, okay?" Molly's voice was filled with unshed tears and Jayne swallowed hard and a small smile flitted around her mouth. She opened her arms and Molly hurried over to give her a swift, hard hug, making Jayne wince.

"Oh!" Molly cried, feeling terrible for hurting her.

"For heaven's sake, Molly, be careful!" Sherlock chided harshly.

"Sherlock!" Jayne shouted at him, surprising them all. He blinked and looked at her. "Apologize. Now." Jayne said, crossing her arms and wincing again as she accidentally tugged her IV line. Sherlock sighed and without enthusiasm or really making it better, said simply, "Sorry."

Jayne glared at him. But a suddenly yawn caught her off guard and she clapped a hand over her mouth. Quickly as he could, Lestrade told Jayne that the gunman had been apprehended. She smiled, but all of them could see that she was getting sleeping, her body slumping down into the bed a little. Her eyes began to close slightly more and more with each passing minute. They all left quietly, each of them kissing her cheek softly and wishing her well, even Mycroft and Greg Lestrade, surprisingly, until only Sherlock was left.

He shut the door behind John and the others, and arranged himself as comfortably as possible in the incredibly uncomfortable chair near the bed. He leaned back, eyes on Jayne, studying her sleeping form. Suddenly he noticed something, stood and walked to the closet where Jayne's personal belongings had been placed. He rooted in the bag until he found what he was looking for.

He stepped to the bed beside Jayne and kissed her cheek as the others had done and swiftly slipped the silver band around her finger, the ring he'd given her only a few days before. With that done, he settled back into his chair and prepared to spend the night watching over this woman who seemed to be not as ordinary as he'd first thought.


	15. Chapter 15

Jayne woke often during the night as the nurses checked her vitals and asked her if she needed sleeping medication. (Really? Waking you up to ask if you needed sleeping pills?!) Jayne had spotted Sherlock immediately, hidden in the shadows and wondered how in the world the nurses that came in didn't see him. He dozed off and on as she did through the night, though he slept lightly; always aware.. When one of the nurses opened the door, Jayne saw a flash at her own hand and looked down to see her ring on her hand again. She peeked under her lashes at Sherlock and smiled. He was actually very sweet when he wanted to be.

She dozed again and when she woke, it was morning and sun was peering between the blinds. She rubbed her eyes and sat up a little straighter. Pain flashed through her and she groaned in annoyance. She hated the hospital, she hated hurting and she was rather annoyed that she had to stay for at least another day.

"Do you need to call the nurse?" came a concerned voice from the corner. Sherlock's eyes were open and staring at her.

"You're being awfully solicitous, Mr. Holmes. Aren't you supposed to be cold, calculating and lofty?" she said, trying to keep a straight face. She was horrified when Sherlock's eyes went cold and his facial features stiffened and he looked at her like she was a perfect stranger. "Sherlock, it was a joke, I was only kidding. Oh god, Sherlock!" she cried out in misery. She tried to move from the bed as he stood and gathered his coat. "Dammit, Sherlock Holmes, if you make me get out of this bed with all these drugs in my system you're going to be sorry." She groused as she slid to the edge of the bed, the stupid hospital gown riding up her thighs.

She stood on unsteady legs and tried to take a step, falling forwards, yelping as the forward motion tugged hard on her IV line. Sherlock was suddenly there, keeping her from falling. She looked up into his face, blushed and whispered, "Sorry." He merely grunted and pushed her back into the bed, pulling the gown back down around her knees; not knowing how his touch made Jayne's insides knot. He pulled the blanket up around her waist and bowed in a gentlemanly fashion before pressing the button for the nurse and hurrying out of the room before Jayne could even think of trying to stop him.

When the nurse arrived, she saw only that Jayne was in tears. Jayne was crying so hard that she couldn't explain to the nurse that it was her own heart hurting that had her in tears, not any real physical pain. Before Jayne could say anything, the nurse pressed a syringe into Jayne's IV feed line and Jayne felt a strange warm trickle begin in her blood stream and then she was being sucked down into darkness.

The next time her eyes opened, the sun was shining brightly indeed, and John was sitting by her bedside, reading a newspaper. There were several large vases of flowers and a cheerful looking balloon that shouted "No Worries" at her. Her eyes followed the balloon's ribbon down to where it was wrapped and knotted around the paw of a stuffed panda bear. Definitely Molly's contribution to the chaos. She assumed the beautiful Wedgewood style (dear lord, she hoped it was in the Wedgewood style and not an actual Wedgewood!) vase filled with enormous calla lilies was from Mycroft, the cheerful sunflowers from Greg, and a small potted rose from John.

John finally noticed she was awake and put down his newspaper. She smiled at him and he scooted his rather uncomfortable-looking metal chair closer to her bed. "Hi." She sad weakly. He smiled back. "How do you feel?" he asked.

"Like I got shot." She joked.

"Yeah, been there, done that." he replied, making her smile bigger. "Sucks, doesn't it?"

"That it does, John, that it does." she said, sighing and wiggling around, trying to get more comfortable. She used the little remote to lift the head of the bed a bit higher, into a slightly reclined position. "Ahh. Much better. So…how mad is he at me?" she asked, slightly afraid of the answer.

"Not really sure. He didn't come back to the flat. That could be good or bad, knowing Sherlock," he sighed. Jayne nodded and hoped John didn't see her wince. _Stupid trauma-induced headache_, she thought. Her prayers weren't answered though, he'd seen her well enough. Despite what Sherlock sometimes thought, when it came to medicine, John was a more than competent observer. "If you're in pain, you should call for the nurse, you know. There's no cowardice in pain relief." he said softly.

Jayne blushed. "I know that, but I'd rather not. I've had enough of hospitals to last me a lifetime, and I hate the effects of coming down off the morphine bad enough as it is. Makes me feel like my skin is itching in it's entirety and I can't scratch it enough." She pointed to her arm where several scars ran in parallel lines. "Gave myself scars when I was younger from scratching so hard. My mother eventually had to put socks over my hands when I'd sleep or I'd continue scratching in my sleep. They don't tell fourteen year olds how addictive morphine is."

"You were addicted to morphine?" John asked, suddenly concerned.

Jayne nodded. "Well, in a way, I suppose. I consider it an addiction because of how much I liked how it made me feel; but I never tried to get any outside of hospital conditions. I knew that would truly make me an addict, and I knew it would kill my parents. And more than anything, I hate disappointing them. John…I miss them, so much. I love being here with you and Sherlock, it was always my dream in my own world. But I miss my parents, my sister, the rest of my crazy family." Tears began leaking from the sides of her closed eyelids, making John's heart wrench for her.

"You know if there's a way for you to get home, Sherlock will find it. If only to irk Mycroft," John said, making Jayne laugh through the tears. Her eyes opened, and while they were still ringed with tears, they weren't as sad. He noticed she yawned widely, and he smiled at her. "Back to sleep with you for a while. I'm sure Sherlock will be back by the time you wake up again."

John picked up his coat and left as Jayne lowered the bed to a flat sleeping position. She carefully turned a little onto her side and yawned again. She closed her eyes and her breathing deepened. She was asleep in a few moments, deeply sleeping through the shock and exhaustion that gripped her. She was so deeply asleep, in fact, that she never heard the door open; didn't hear the footsteps and the breathing of the well-dressed man who stood by her bedside. He looked down at her with a strange smile on his face as he calculated what this delightful, lovely girl would bring to his great game with Sherlock Holmes. He heard footsteps in the hall and left swiftly, the door silently swishing shut behind him.


	16. Chapter 16

_**First of all, I just want to thank each and every one of you for the amazing reviews. They really mean the world to me. I try and reply to each one! So, again, thank you. And now, on to the chapter!**_

_**~J.**_

* * *

Sleep, they kept saying. Sleep and you'll heal. Sleep and you'll feel better. _Bull_, Jayne decided. All this sleeping was just making her feel more tired and useless. Now she was grumpy and was doing her best not to take it out on the nurses. And Sherlock still hadn't been to see her again; she must have really pissed him off. She sighed and sunk lower into the inclined bed.

Everyone was busy: Molly down in the morgue, Lestrade at the police precinct, John doing rounds here at the hospital, Mycroft running the country and Sherlock off doing God knows what. She stared at the tv that was currently set on the news, then her gaze continued to wander around the room. The pile of books on the table that she'd already read, the magazines that she'd been bored nearly to tears by.

A knock at the door interrupted her reverie and she called out," Come in!" The door opened to reveal a young nurse pushing a meal cart. Jayne glanced at the clock on the wall. It was a little past noon. She smiled at the young woman. "What do we have on the menu today?"

"Looks like taco surprise, lettuce salad, and lime jello." the nurse said, grimacing as she opened the cover on the plate. Truthfully, Jayne thought, it didn't look that bad. The nurse put the plate on Jayne's adjustable table and Jayne sat the head of the bed up further until she was in a sitting position. While the nurse checked her vitals, Jayne pushed the taco surprise around, noting that there was ground beef with spices mixed in, tomatoes, and some kind of thin, watery salsa. A small bag of Doritos was meant to be crumbled over the mixture.

Jayne was pretty certain she could do a better job of making a better "Taco surprise," and it made her smile. Maybe she'd try it for John one night. She laughed at the thought of doing refined hospital food, making the nurse look at her oddly. "Sorry, sorry, just had a funny thought pop into my head."

The nurse gave her a strained little smile, injected something into her line and walked out of the room. With her bite, Jayne decided it wasn't too bad; and being as hungry as she was, it was gone in moments. She laid back against the bed and sighed, finally feeling a bit better now that there was something on her stomach.

She closed her eyes and listened to the news when something caught her attention. Her eyes flew open and she stared in horror at the picture on the television screen. Rubble filled the screen, the caption on the bottom of the screen reading that a bomb had gone off in the middle of London. Jayne felt herself beginning to shake, as the camera panned closer and she saw the familiar buildings that surrounded 221 B Baker Street. She reached for the phone but there was no ring tone. She began to panic as a massive headache exploded in her head. She was still crying out for Sherlock as she blacked out.

When she finally woke, she was on a ventilator, and could hear the beeping of a heart monitor. She moaned and suddenly there was a face in her view. But it was not the face she needed to see. Mycroft stood there, looking worried. "Jayne?" he said softly. She gripped his hand and squeezed. He sighed and smiled down at her. "The doctor's were going to release you this afternoon, and now you're stuck here for a while longer. Do you know what happened? Blink once for yes, twice for no." She squeezed her eyes shut twice for no.

He grimaced and looked at the wall so he wouldn't have to look into her eyes and know that he'd failed in protecting her as he said he'd would. "You were poisoned, Jayne. Someone slipped some poison into your food and directly in your IV line. You were lucky you weren't killed." But Jayne knew it wasn't luck. If Moriarty had wanted her dead, she'd be dead. He obviously wanted to use her as a distraction for Sherlock. Dammit! She tried to think of a way to communicate her questions to Mycroft. She needed to know where Sherlock was, what day it was, what poor soul had Moriarty dragged into his hellish game now.

Then it hit her. She squeezed Mycroft's hand hard getting his attention. She quickly moved her fingers into the letters she wanted. Mycroft just stared at her. "You know sign language?" She blinked her eyes once for yes. Mycroft was instantly on his phone calling for a translator. Within the hour, a young man was there and began translating for her.

The young Asian man asked Mycroft's question again. "You know sign language?" He waited and wrote out the answer on a piece of paper.

"Only the letters. Learned them when I had to teach them to a kindergarten class. " she quickly signed, frustrated at how much longer it took to sign than to speak. "Where is Sherlock?" she asked.

"Working on a case for me," Mycroft answered.

"Westie?" she asked, surprising him. He nodded, looking at the young man with concern. She rolled her eyes and signed out, "I'm not stupid, Mycroft." It made him laugh, but she could still see a little fear in her eyes. No one besides him, Sherlock, John a few trusted others knew about Andrew West's death. But he nodded, confirming her suspicions. Just as she was going to tell him about Moriarty, a doctor strode into the room.

"I'm sorry, sir, but it's time for her treatments. It will make her sleep for a while. I'm afraid you'll have to question her more later." Mycroft looked like he was going to protest, and Jayne was signing out NO! But the doctor shook his head and whispered to Mycroft, "Sir, if we don't she may die. We're doing all we can to counteract the effects of the poison, but we aren't sure what damage it may do if she doesn't get the treatment and rest. Sir, this is life or death."

Mycroft nodded sadly and looked down at Jayne, who was blinking her eyes, "No, no, no!" "I'm sorry, Jayne, dear. But you need your rest to recover." Much to her surprise, he showed actual emotion when he bowed down and kissed her forehead softly. She blushed and waved her hand a little in goodbye. Dear lord, she hoped the rumors that he was gay were true. She didn't think she could handle two Holmes men! One stubborn man was more than enough!

Mycroft and the translator left and Jayne was left alone in the room with only the doctor and the nurse at his side. They looked over her vitals and suddenly the doctor's face was in her vision and his eyes stared down into her own. She knew those eyes and the monitor recorded as her heart rate spiked. "Hello Miss Wyler. We're going on a little trip, you and I. We're going to see my new friend Sherlock." Moriarty said, nodding at the nurse who jabbed a needle in Jayne's arm, causing her to cry out against the rough, choking ventilator.

She fought like hell to stay awake, she had to protect Sherlock. She grabbed ahold of Moriarty's wrist, glaring up into his. It delighted him to see how furious and how tenacious she was, but soon, he could see that the drug his little nurse friend had administered was coursing through her veins and sapping her strength. He watched as she faded into a sleep so deep and black that there were no dreams.

She slept as the nurse removed the ventilator and all of the monitoring equipment. She knew that Jayne was fine, the poison had been out of her system within hours, now Jayne's body just had to finish flushing it out of her system. The room suddenly filled with more of Moriarty's men, who helped to carry the unconscious Jayne out of the room. Moriarty smiled and left a preserved black rose where Jayne had been laying and walked out of the room. Sherlock had finished his last puzzle. Now it was time for the game to truly begin.


	17. Chapter 17

**Yay! New chapter for you all! Also, I wanted to thank everyone again for all the awesome reviews, I've reached over a hundred already! If you only knew how absolutely thrilled that makes me and how much it makes me want to write more for you!**

**~J.**

* * *

Jayne awoke with a throbbing headache and quickly found that she wasn't where she expected to be. Instead of being tied to a chair in a damp, mold and mildew infested basement somewhere, when she opened her eyes she found herself to be a brightly-sunlit and normal looking bedroom. She kept her eyes slitted as the sunlight made the headache pounding her brain worse.

She was able to see through them that she was in a very elegantly appointed room. The bed, wardrobe and a large cabinet which she supposed held a big-screen television were all carved intricately and the wood was white-washed. Gold gilded on every edge she could see, from the head and footboards of the bed, the wardrobe and cabinet, even the frames of the paintings were gold.

A bright slash of emerald green caught her eye. A beautiful dress shimmered with sequins and crystals, hanging on the front of the wardrobe. A pair of equally bedazzled spike heeled shoes matched the dress. She wondered who they were for before the reality of who exactly it was for hit her and she groaned.

She closed her eyes, trying to force away the fog of whatever drug had been pumped into her system. Whatever it was, it made her heart feel like it was going to pump out of her chest; it was causing severe panic attacks. She heard a door open but didn't open her eyes. She let her breathing deepen and slow.

"Don't pretend. I know you're not asleep, Miss Wyler." Moriarty's voice was sharp, annoyed. Something had happened. She felt her mind fly through the last episode of season 1. The old woman, describing Moriarty. Her eyes flew open, staring at him with disgust plain in her gaze. It seemed to startle him for a second, the instantaneous hate that had appeared in those dark green orbs.

"Since I'm sure you don't know who I am, know that this isn't personal. I'm only using you to-"

"To get at Sherlock, yes, I know….Jim." She rasped out; her throat was dry and her mouth felt as if it were filled with cotton balls. That definitely surprised him. His eyes went guarded and he regarded her differently, walking around the bed and watching her reactions. She forced herself to follow him only with her eyes; forced herself not to turn her head when he walked past her line of vision. It was a hard thing to do, not to watch every move he made. She could feel adrenaline pumping through her body, her chest felt like a fist of ice was grasped around her heart.

When he didn't move back into her line of vision, she slowly turned her head to the side to watch him. He picked up a phone on the stand beside the bed and pressed a button, and began speaking into the phone. "Please bring breakfast and lots of milk, juice and water to Miss Wyler's room." He replaced the handset and sat on the edge of the bed.

Jayne felt her skin crawl, but tried to be brave, she didn't scuttle to the other side of the bed. Besides, who knew who or what would be coming through the door any minute now with her breakfast. She felt herself go breathless when he reached out and wrapped a hand around her ankle, yanking her closer. She gasped and dug her hands into the bedding to keep him from dragging her any closer, making him smirk.

"I'm not after your innocence, Miss Wyler. I don't much care for virgins." he said caustically. Jayne felt heat flood her face, her brain stuttering to a stop. How did he know she'd never been intimate with anyone? He smiled smugly at her, making her want to hit him, but she knew that was a very precarious thought.

James Moriarty was the ultimate in bipolarity. Up one second, infuriated the next. He enjoyed teasing her, he would enjoy terrifying her before this was all over. He would immensely enjoy the look on Sherlock's face when he took her away from him. He wondered how much emotion Sherlock would betray at the loss of his little friend…girlfriend, perhaps? Certainly not lover. Though he had to admit that little Jayne had a nicely shaped form, he wasn't lying when he'd told her he didn't much enjoy virgins. All the whimpering and crying. Bah!

A knock on the door drew both their attention. The door opened and a man with a gun came in, followed by another man, older, wearing a suit that made Jayne think of the livery that butlers wore in old movies. And considering that this room was probably part of a penthouse somewhere in London, a butler probably wasn't that far off the mark. The butler was pushing a trolley cart loaded with an enormous covered silver tray; he pushed it up to a small whitewashed table and began setting the table.

Jayne could smell bacon, maple syrup and orange juice. The butler bowed to Moriarty as he backed out of the room, the man with the gun following and shutting the door behind him. Moriarty released her ankle and motioned her towards the table. "Eat. Drink. You need to flush the drugs out of your system to be wide awake for Sherlock," he said, smirking in that infuriating way of his.

Jayne moved swiftly to the table, getting as far away from Moriarty as possible. She sat carefully on the edge of the chair at the table, watching him from the corner of her eye as she took the large glass of orange juice and drank it down. The liquid hit her empty stomach with a great gurgling sound and it almost made Jayne feel sick. She quickly nibbled on a piece of toast while Jim watched her, occasionally glancing down at his phone.

She heard it beep and looked up at him to see him smiling, and she could only sense a tinge of evil in that smile. She shivered and sincerely hoped he hadn't noticed. He had, but said nothing, enjoying how he put her on edge. _She should be afraid_, he thought. He had a nice little plan of how to use Jayne to his own advantage.

"I'm afraid we'll have to continue our little chat later, I have some things to attend to. Charles will be back in a while to collect your plate. The dress and shoes there are for you to put on after your shower. The bathroom is there, towels and necessities are ready for you in there as well. And don't think you can get out any other way than the door. All the windows are bulletproof glass, the walls are fireproof sheetrock over reinforced steel. The only way you'll get out of this room is when I take you. Do you UNDERSTAND!" he shouted, making Jayne flinch, his intended reaction.

She nodded quickly, so as not to anger him, all the while wracking her brain to find a way to help John and Sherlock, she knew what the end of season one brought, a cliffhanger! Understanding that his directions were comprehended, Jim left, the door locking behind him with an ominous sounding _click_.

She ate slowly, her stomach still feeling a bit ill. The food was good: buttermilk pancakes, thick cut bacon, toast, scrambled eggs. Orange juice, milk and tea, along with a tall glass of iced water were also carefully placed on the tray. She drank down each of them, especially the tea, hoping it would help with the brain-fog and headache the drugs had left her with.

Finally full, she walking into the bathroom, again ostentatiously appointed with plenty of gleaming white and gilded fixtures. Her eyes took in the enormous bathtub with whirlpool jets, and the large glass-enclosed shower. She thought for a minute which would be safest, she immediately decided on the shower, it would be quicker; and she'd be less vulnerable as she held her head under water while standing as opposed to dunking under the water in the tub. She turned the taps on and nearly groaned in delight at how hot the water was immediately. She found the fancy brand of soap and shampoo/conditioner that sat on the countertop.

"Big surprise, even his soap is high-end," she muttered under her breath. She quickly soaped and rinsed both her hair and body and climbed out of the shower onto a very cushiony bath mat and couldn't resist digging her toes into the plushness of it. She wrapped a towel around herself and her hair, drying it was well as possible before spotting a hair dryer and a gold brush, comb and mirror set on the counter. She rolled her eyes but began slowly drying and brushing her hair.

She squeaked and nearly dropped the hair dryer when the door suddenly swung open, admitting a young woman who looked rather bored. She was holding a large train case, the type that hair stylists and cosmetologists use. "You Jayne?" she said, popping the gum that she was chewing on.

Jayne nodded, holding the towel she wore tightly around herself. "Jim told me to fix you up fancy-like. Have a seat," the woman said, motioning to the chair Jayne had sat at earlier while eating her breakfast. The dishes were gone and Jayne wondered how in the hell they'd managed to remove them without her hearing them, she hadn't been in the shower that long!

Jayne sat down, her arms crossed over her chest, holding the towel tightly against her as the woman began opening the case. She pulled out pots, palettes and bottles of foundation, blush, eye shadow and tubes of mascara and lipstick. She went to work, moving quickly, and within minutes had Jayne's face patted and painted with color. Jayne was made to close her eyes, open her eyes, open her mouth, blot and smile. "Though considering why you're here, I don't think you'll be doing much smiling," the woman said snidely.

The woman finished her job by pulling the sides of Jayne's hair back into two small braids and securing them in a small bun at the back of her head, letting he rest of her hair fall in a waterfall down her back. "There's underwear in the drawers there for you, Jim wanted me to tell you, said he forgot when he was here." The woman finally left and Jayne sighed.

She walked to the wardrobe and pulled one of the doors and gasped at the lavish array of silk and satin panties and bra sets, even spying several with matching garter belts, all of them in a rainbow of colors. Without thinking, her fingers slid over a pair of turquoise colored satin panties. She sighed and pulled all three pieces-panties, bra and garter belt-from the drawer. She bravely dropped the towel and pulled the panties and bra on, then slid the garter overtop, feeling the snaps swinging between her thighs. The next drawer proved to hold silk stockings with lacey tops.

She pulled those on, snapping the garter belt's snaps over the edges of the lace to keep them from falling. She glared at the beautiful dress for a moment before pulling it off it's holder and shimmying into it. She could see herself in the wardrobe's mirror and had to admit to herself that the dress suited her, both color-wise and shape-wise. Damn Moriarty for knowing fashion!

There was a knock on the door as Jayne was fastening the shoes around her ankles, the thin spike heels making her nervous. Jim Moriarty walked into the room, stalking towards her. She stood tall as he walked all the way around her, twice. "Oh yes. Oh yes! Sherlock is just going to looove this!" he said, snapping pictures of her before he grasped her wrist, dragging her from the room.


	18. Chapter 18

As Moriarty escorted her from the penthouse, down the elevator and out into the street, Jayne could feel a tight, roiling knot of liquid steel in her guts. She was well and truly afraid. Jim, for once, was quiet, glancing at his phone as a large dark car pulled up; a young man covered in scars and tattoos jumped from the driver's seat to open the door for them. Jayne could feel the young man's eyes on her, undressing her and she fought back a shiver. She gasped as she felt his hand on her behind through the thin material of the dress, as he "helped" her into the car.

She slid into the seat beside Moriarty and glared at the man, who now had a cocky grin on his face, as he shut the door. "Do you want me to shoot him? It would delay our arrival while we wait for another car?" Jim asked nonchalantly, as though killing was an every day occurrence. Perhaps it was, for him.

Jayne's mind swirled with activity, trying to comprehend just how she was going to be able to get away from Moriarty and warn Sherlock. She kept on thinking this until the car pulled to a stop and the car door opened to show John, with a gun held to his head and a thick coat around him. Jayne knew then exactly where she was in the plotline of the show. It was glaringly obvious. "Oh no!" She whimpered under her breath, while John looked at her in complete and utter shock.

"Jayne? Are you alright?" John shouted, glaring at Jim.

Her voice felt shaky, as she replied. "I'm okay, John. I don't know exactly what happened, but I'm okay."

"Drugged. Kidnapped. Let's be on our way now, shall we?" Jim said, his voice strangely monotone. Oh lord, he was bored.

Everything after that passed in a blur. They arrived at the pool, where Moriarty forced John out of the car. He pushed a transmitter into John's ear and pointed him to doorway of the pool. Jayne could faintly hear the voices of John and Sherlock, as John relayed what Jim was ordering him to speak. Jayne winced when she heard "Gottle o' gear, gottle o' gear, gottle o' gear" from Moriarty and then it being relayed by John. "Stop it!" she whimpered at Moriarty.

What is wrong with me?! Jayne though. She wasn't weak. But she honestly couldn't think of a way to help John and Sherlock without them all being killed. And then she was being pushed into the room with Jim Moriarty. "I gave you my number. I thought you might call," he intoned, the look on his face one of pure insanity.

The look on Sherlock's face would have been priceless if it wasn't in such a dangerous situation. And the look when Jim dragged Jayne out beside him was even more so. Jayne's head pounded as they went through the motions so familiar from the TV show.

"People have died." Sherlock said, pointing the gun at Moriarty.

"That's what people DO!" Jim shouted, causing Jayne to flinch away from him, his grip on her arm tightening.

When John jumped on Moriarty's back, Jayne was thrown to the floor. She lifted her torso up on her hands in time to see the bright red laser dot appear on Sherlock's forehead, and the flashing light that blinded her for the blink of an eye was one pointed at her own head.

"Do you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock? To you?" Jim Moriarty asked.

"Oh let me guess. I get killed." Sherlock smirked at the simpleness of it.

"Kill you? No, don't be obvious. I mean, I'm going to kill you anyway, some day. I don't want to rush it though. I'm saving it up for something special. No, no, no, no, no. If you don't stop prying…I'll burn you. I'll burn the HEART out of you." Moriarty replied.

"I've been reliably informed that I don't have one." Sherlock said.

"But we both know that's not quite true." Jim said, looking back towards Jayne and John.

"Well, I'd better be off. Come along, Jayne, dear." Jim said, grabbing Jayne's arm. "Well, so nice to have had a proper chat. "

"What if I was to shoot you now? Right now?" Sherlock said, asking questions in order to buy time to think of a way to get them out of this without getting them all killed.

"Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face. " Jim said, making an exaggerated surprised face. 'Cause I'd be surprised, Sherlock. Really I would. And just a teensy bit…disappointed. And of course you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long. You, your friend, your lovely Miss Wyler…dead. Ciao, Sherlock Holmes," Moriarty said, pulling Jayne with him.

"Catch you…later." Sherlock said.

"No you won't!" Moriarty sing-songed as the door shut behind him and Jayne. Jayne felt tears falling down her cheeks as she cried, knowing what would happen now. And knowing that she didn't know how this ended. She wasn't surprised when they stopped just outside the door, waiting a few moments before opening the door again.

"Sorry boys, I'm so changeable! It is a weakness with me, but to be fair, it is my only weakness. You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't. I would try to convince you, but everything I have to say has already crossed your mind." _Why did he have to sound so excited, the bastard?!_ Jayne thought.

"Probably my answer has already crossed yours," Sherlock spoke, turning and pointing the gun first at Jim, and then at the coat filled with blocks of Semtex that now lay on the floor of the pool. Jayne squeezed her eyes shut, tears sliding between her closed lids to drip onto the floor.

Jayne jumped when "Staying Alive" suddenly began playing and Jim let out a disgusted breath. "Do you mind if I get that?" he asked of Sherlock.

"Oh no, please. You've got the rest of your life." Sherlock said, a little sarcastically.

Jim clicked the send button. "Hello?" He asked, switching possession of Jayne's arm to his other hand. "Yes of course it is. What do you want?" 'Sorry.' he mouthed at Sherlock. Jayne was almost waiting on Sherlock to roll his eyes instead of mouthing back, 'Oh, fine.'

"Say that again!" Moriarty shouted, causing Jayne to yelp in surprise. "Say that again, and know that if you're lying to me, I will find you and I will skin you." Jim said, very succinctly. "Wait." he ordered, putting the phone down for a second. He stepped toward John and Sherlock, pulling Jayne along. "Sorry," he said, looking disappointed, "wrong day to die."

"Oh. Did you get a better offer?" Sherlock asked.

"You'll be hearing from me, Sherlock." Jim said, he looked over at Jayne and with no more thought than he'd give a wisp of air, half-threw, half-shoved her into the pool. She hit the water with a hard splash, the weight of the dress and heavy shoes dragging her under almost immediately as Jim Moriarty walked from the pool, still speaking to whoever the caller was.

Suddenly Jayne felt herself being lifted, up towards the air. When her head broke the surface, she sucked in air, gasping and coughing. She felt herself in strong arms and was surprised to see it was Sherlock who had jumped into the water to save her. With his help she swam to the side of the pool, where John and Sherlock helped her out of the pool. They all three sat there for a moment, looking at each other before grinning and finally laughing. They were alive!


	19. Chapter 19

Sherlock, John and Jayne somehow managed, still giggling, to make it out to the street where Sherlock called for a cab. The entire ride back to 221B, Jayne felt as though she were being watched. She leaned, sniffling, against Sherlock's side and closed her eyes and thus missed the strangely childlike look of wonder that appeared on his face as he looked upon her. He'd almost lost her, he thought. Why did that thought fill him with such dread? Most people were a nuisance, and he usually had only to ignore them for a few days before they went away.

But something told him that if he ignored Jayne Wyler for very long, she'd drag him out of bed, cajoling him with oddly funny bits of trivia (of which he already knew) and feeding him some delicious meal that he hadn't eaten since childhood. Memories were a strange and funny thing, he could "delete" them as much as he liked, but sense memory: touch, taste, smell…well, they were still there. The food she prepared with such care, and dare he say, love?, were hearty and delicious and he hadn't had food like that since the housekeeper his family had when he was a young teenager had retired and moved to Florida in the States.

Sherlock wondered for a moment what Mycroft was doing to find Jayne. Sherlock knew that Mycroft had been frantic to find her, but Sherlock figured that Moriarty had probably had someone inside the hospital (there was really no telling where he had his people) who had taken Jayne from her safe hospital bed. Molly had been distraught, calling in Lestrade and his team. Something that didn't earn Molly any favor in Sherlock's eyes. He knew that Moriarty would use Jayne for leverage; it didn't stop the panic that had flooded his veins in the instant before he squelched it. Panic would not help her.

When Jim Moriarty had stepped through that door with Jayne, it had been just as much a shock to his mind as when John had stepped through the door and he'd thought that someone he had come to call friend was in danger. He had instantly thought through every remote idea he had to get them all out of there alive. And he knew not a single one would work. He thought his heart would stop when Moriarty had returned, his hand clutching Jayne's arm in a tiger-like grip, and told them all that they were going to die. Selfishly, he had thought of his own self first, that was simply his nature. But quickly riding the coat tails of his own life was concern for Jayne's and John's. They were pawns in this game between Moriarty and himself.

The cab finally pulled up at 221B, and they each scooted out of the cab, Jayne wincing as the plastic seat squeaked as she slid across it in her soaked gown. _It was a pity_, she thought, _because it was a beautiful dress_. Maybe it could be saved. "I call dibs on the first shower!" she shouted as they climbed the stairs to the apartment. She stopped short when she saw Mycroft sitting, looking a little worried, in Sherlock's chair. His eyes lit up when he saw Jayne, and a genuine smile wreathed his face for a moment before he took in her drenched appearance. "What did that bastard do to you, Jayne, dear?" he asked.

"Oh, you know. Drugged. Kidnapped. Thrown into a pool while wearing 3-inch heels and a beaded ball gown." She grinned at him, a lock of wet hair straggling down her cheek. He moved to her side more quickly that she thought he would be able and took her shoulders in his hands and looked her over. And surprised her when he breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm really glad you're okay." He said and kissed her cheek. "I would appreciate it if you stopped by the hospital and have a few blood tests done to make sure all traces are out of your system."

"Sherlock. Dr. Watson." he nodded to them as he walked out of the apartment, leaving Jayne blinking in surprise.

"If you're not going to take a shower, I'm going to." Sherlock said, pushing past Jayne.

"Oh no you don't, I called dibs!" Jayne laughed, grabbing his arm and hauling him back to run ahead of him. She reached the bathroom and slammed the door behind her, leaning against it and laughing harder, though her mind whirled with what had just happened with Mycroft. _Seriously, what just happened_? She thought. She turned on the taps and as she waited for the water to get hot, she pulled off the soggy dress and heels. She carefully hung the dress over an exposed pipe near the window so it would dry. She hung the shoes beside it, fastening their straps around the pipe to hold them.

She looked down at the satin panties, bra and garter belt that she'd chosen from the drawer full at Moriarty's penthouse. She quickly stripped out of them and hung them up with the shoes and the dress. She'd gather them later, though she was already blushing at the thought of John and Sherlock seeing them. She knew Sherlock wouldn't care, but John might be uncomfortable.

She stepped into the shower, sighing as the hot water enveloped her. She leaned her head against the wall, and felt the tears finally start to slide down her cheeks as she began to tremble. She slid down into the tub and just let the hot water fall around her. She buried her face in her hands and let the sobs overtake her. She had been so scared! When she finally stopped shaking, she turned off the water and climbed out of the tub. She wrapped a towel around herself and stared at her reflection. As she suspected, she looked like hell.

Her eyes were wide and looked slightly glazed, possibly from the adrenaline mixed with the last of the drugs in her system. Her lips were drawn tight, yet still curved slightly upwards. She was pale, another side effect from the drugs and adrenaline, she was sure. She also ached all over from hitting the cold water so hard and her throat hurt from swallowing some of the water. She felt dehydrated from the hot shower and the chlorine she'd swallowed. She wrapped herself in the biggest towel she could find and stepped out into the hallway.

"Sherlock, bathroom's yours!" she called out as she walked into his bedroom. And squeaked when she opened the door and Sherlock was standing there in the nude. She quickly slammed her eyes shut and closed the door. "Sorry!" She called as she leaned against the hallway wall, her face bright red. Sherlock opened the door and she couldn't miss the hint of a smile around his lips. "Seems we're even now." he said and headed toward the bathroom, wrapped in his dressing gown and carrying his clothes.


	20. Chapter 20

After that most embarrassing incident with Sherlock, Jayne was completely exhausted, mentally as well as physically. She climbed into his bed, pulling the thick quilts over herself and closed her eyes. She was asleep in seconds, her mind and body trying to process all that had happened.

She awoke to a knock on the door. "Yeah?" she called, her face still half-buried in the pillow. "Jayne…there's someone here to see you." John called to her through the door. Jayne sat up and realized she was still in the towel she'd crawled into bed in. "Just a minute, John, I'll be right out." She said loudly. She found where Sherlock had stuffed the bags of clothing that she'd bought and pulled on a pair of jeans and a black tshirt printed with colorful butterflies. Her feet were a bit chilled, so she pulled on a pair of simple white ankle socks as well.

She walked into the living room and was surprised to see Molly and Greg Lestrade there…holding hands. Molly was blushing softly and she looked happy. When she saw Jayne, her whole face lit up and she rushed forward, hugging Jayne. Jayne smiled and wrapped her arms tightly around Molly to return the hug. "Oh, Jayne! I'm so glad you're ok! John was just telling Greg and me what happened! Are you ok?" Molly asked her friend.

"Still very tired, but I think that may be the last of the drugs in my system. I still feel a bit achey from it as well. Though being nearly drowned probably doesn't help with that either. But all in all, I'm feeling much better. Living is always better than dead." Jayne said softly.

"But where did he have you taken, do you know? Was it some horrible, dank, smelly basement?" Molly pressed for answers. After all, she knew Sherlock had adventures all the time, this was the closest Molly had ever come to being a part of one.

"Oh for God's sake, Molly, can't you see she's in pain and exhausted?" Sherlock finally spoke, sharply, glaring at Molly. And was surprised when Jayne turned on HIM!

"Sherlock Holmes! You apologize to Molly right this second! She wasn't asking anything inappropriate, and if I felt too tired to answer, I'd let you all know. As a matter of fact, I enjoy her questions, it helps me run them through in mind for being able to tell them to you and Mycroft later. It's also helping me take my mind off the fact that my arm is aching, I've got a headache and that I don't want to feel the fear I've been feeling since I saw Moriarty in that hospital room!" She shouted at him, making his eyes go wide and then sullen as she fussed at him.

John was trying not to grin, hiding his smile behind his hand, but Greg was staring at her with open admiration. It took a lot of nerve for anyone to speak to Sherlock, let alone shout at the man. With his cutting remarks, he could reduce most people to ribbons, and more often than not, tears.

Sherlock stood up, stiffly, nodded to Molly and turned to walk away. He didn't get very far, however, before Jayne had grabbed his coat and yanked him back. "That was not a proper apology, Sherlock." She looked at him like his mother had when he was a child and it made him feel rather annoyed. Why did this strange woman have such an effect on him? He growled a little but turned to Molly. "I'm sorry, Molly." he said, and yanked his coat out of Jayne's grasp before stalking out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

He didn't see how Jayne's face fell when he walked out, she buried it into her hands for a moment. But she got control of herself and put a (rather fake looking) smile on her face as she turned back to her friends. "Well then. Who's hungry? Molly, I believe I owe you some spaghetti?" Jayne called, knowing she could lose herself for a little while in cooking.

"Would you like some help, Jayne?" Molly asked. Jayne quickly shook her head. "No, I'm good. But some company is always nice. John, Greg, you boys play nice while Molly and I make some supper." Jayne walked into the kitchen with Molly practically at her heels.

"So, tell me about you and Greg." Jayne ordered as they entered the kitchen. Jayne had the great pleasure of seeing Molly's cheeks suffuse with pale pink without having it be an embarrassment that did so.

"Well, he and his wife have been separated. She's seeing some other bloke. We had drinks after visiting you in the hospital, got to talking. He's…sweet." Molly said, blushing.

"Molly, I'm so happy for you! I think the two of you make a cute couple." Jayne said.

"Then you don't think he's too old for me?" Molly whispered.

"Absolutely not! Greg's a good man. I bet he'd make a good husband and father." Jayne said, winking at Molly as she filled a pot with hot water and slid it onto a burner, flicking it up to high. She put a skillet on another burner and flicked the flame to a medium heat and opened the refrigerator door and found the ground beef and Italian-style sausages she'd bought only a few days ago. She crumbled the beef into the skillet and slit the sausage casings to remove the meat as Molly watched. She chopped green peppers and onions into a small dice and added those to the meat mixture as well.

"You really enjoy cooking, don't you?" Molly asked as she watched Jayne.

"Yes, always have. It's a way for me to get out of my own head, because I have to remember everything that goes into the recipe and how it has to be prepared." Jayne answered, using a metal pancake flipper to move the meat and veggie mixture around and chop the meat into smaller bits. When the water began to boil Jayne added a little salt to the water, causing it to boil faster before adding long, thin spaghetti noodles. She stirred them once and placed a lid on the pot. Jayne opened two large cans of diced tomatoes and one of tomato sauce and poured them into a saucepan, stirring in the cooked meat mixture and turning the burner up a little higher, bringing it to a simmer. She placed the lid on the saucepan after stirring in a few spices. She quickly washed the skillet and placed it in the dish drainer.

She and Molly talked as Jayne slit a long loaf of bread and stirred a mixture of garlic, salt and butter together and slathered it on the bread. She slid it into the oven and turned on the broiler. She stirred the sauce while she hummed and Molly rambled on about her cat and his new habit of dragging her socks though the house and dropping them into the toilet.

When the time dinged, Jayne drained the pasta and poured the meat sauce over it, tossing it around until every strand of spaghetti was coated. She pulled the garlic bread from the oven and cut it into slices. She placed the enormous serving bowl of spaghetti on the table along with the garlic bread and called for John and Greg. Everyone served themselves and supper was spent with comfortable conversation and good food.

Hours later, after Jayne had gone to bed, Sherlock returned. He'd spent the hours walking off his annoyance, but several questions still ran though his mind. He opened the door to his bedroom and undressed before sliding into bed beside Jayne. He had to admit, he quite liked coming home to a bed that was already warmed. He shook her lightly until in the pale light from the city he saw her open her eyes. "Sherlock?" she said softly.

"Yes. You had all that time between him taking you from his place to him picking up John. Why didn't you try to run away?" he asked.

"Because he had John, Sherlock." she answered, her eyes beginning to drift closed.

"And when John grabbed him. You could have run then." he pressed on, even though she was mostly asleep again.

Jayne yawned and her answer was so quiet he almost couldn't hear it, but when he heard it, it sent a strange emotion through him. One that he wished he could tamp down, but couldn't. "Because he had you."


	21. Chapter 21

**Just wanted to wish all of my lovely readers a Happy Easter, and whether you celebrate it or not, may your day be filled with Blessings! :D**

**~J**

* * *

Jayne woke snuggled next to Sherlock, her face nestled between his throat and shoulder. She marveled a little at how she seemed to fit so perfectly there, especially with Sherlock's arms wrapped around her. And if she didn't have to pee so damn bad, she'd be perfectly happy to stay there. She slowly unwrapped herself from his grasp and slid to the edge of the bed, trying to be as quiet and stealthy as possible. "Going somewhere?" came the sleepy voice of Sherlock, making her utter a shocked squeak.

She looked to see a small half-smile wreathing his face. She blushed. "Bathroom," she said and strode quickly from the room to the bathroom. After taking care of business, she stared at herself in the mirror as she washed her hands. She still looked tired. How much sleep was it going to take until she evened out? She turned on the water, turned the dial so that it wasn't so freezing cold and splashed her face. She dried it and walked slowly back into Sherlock's bedroom, hoping that he'd fallen back asleep.

No such luck. He was laying on his back, staring at the ceiling, but his eyes flickered to her when she entered the room. She gave him a little smile and walked to "her" side of the dresser. While she'd been gone, Sherlock had put the clothes she'd bought in the three drawers on the right side of his dresser. It had shocked Jayne; it had seemed almost intimate, as though they were living together. Though she knew that was ridiculous, Sherlock had probably just gotten tired of seeing the bags sitting in his room and tripping over them. She quickly pulled a pair of jeans and t-shirt from the drawers, as well as some clean under things.

She walked into the bathroom and took a quick shower and dressed in the comfortable clothes. As she stepped out of the bathroom, she was surprised when she heard a knock on the door. She opened it swiftly and found Mycroft there, along with another man. He was older and had on a white coat. He was dignified with a head of gray hair and a gray beard and mustache. His eyes were a soft, kind blue. "Jayne, dear, this is my personal physician, Doctor Lipton. I wanted him to perform a physical, to make sure all the effects of the drugs have worn off. He's able to do blood testing as well. If you're amenable, that is, Jayne dear."

Though she was nervous at the thought of having blood drawn, Jayne reluctantly agreed. It was almost worth it to see the smile in Mycroft's eyes. She allowed the doctor to escort her to Sherlock's room. "Sherlock, I need to use your room, please?" Jayne asked softly. Groaning, Sherlock wrapped the sheet tighter around himself and pulled a pillow over his head. Sighing, and figuring that was as good as she was going to get out of him, she looked at Doctor Lipton.

"If you could undress and put this on, it would make things easier." Dr. Lipton said, holding a hospital-style gown out to her. She blushed but felt better when Dr. Lipton turned away from her while she undressed. "Sherlock if you turn around, I'm going to kill you!" She whispered harshly to him as she began to pull her clothes off. The tips of her hair were still wet and made her shiver when they slid along the top of her buttocks. She quickly pulled the gown on and sat on the edge of the bed.

"I'm ready, Dr. Lipton." she said softly. He turned to her and smiled. "Now then, would you like to do the blood tests first or wait until after the exam?" he asked, his voice soft. Jayne thought about it for a moment.. "Now, please. That way I won't have to dread it so much." He nodded and turned to his bag, gathering the syringe and vials.

Jayne jumped a little when she felt a hand wrap around hers. She looked down to see Sherlock had grasped her hand, knowing that she was fearful of needles. To see how far he'd allow her to go, she wove her fingers with his and felt herself blush when he peeked out from under the pillow at her, his eyes questioning, But he said nothing, squeezing her fingers gently instead and turning his head back into the pillow.

Dr. Lipton turned back to Jayne and had her clench her fist (the one not holding Sherlock's hand) and nodded when he was ready to insert the needle. She turned her head and accidentally squeezed Sherlock's hand a bit hard when she felt the needle's pinch. She gasped a little and ground her teeth together as the needle pierced deep into her vein. "There, all in." Dr. Lipton said and Jayne turned to watch the blood filling the tube-like vial.

Dr. Lipton ended up taking two vials of blood and Jayne admitted that she was feeling a little dizzy when he was done. He handed her two glucose tablets to help raise her blood sugar levels. Soon she was feeling a little better and Dr. Lipton continued the exam. He asked her questions about her overall health, if she felt any remaining symptoms of the drug that Moriarty had forced on her. He tested her reflexes, checked her temperature and pronounced her quite fit and healthy.

She was never happier to see someone leave, she thought, than when she escorted Dr. Lipton and Mycroft to the door. Mycroft kissed her cheek before he left, and strangely, Jayne thought she saw laughter in his eyes as he pulled back. She turned to see Sherlock standing in the hallway between his room and the bathroom. He gave her an odd look and entered the bathroom. Jayne put it out of her mind as she went to begin supper.

In the weeks and months that followed, there was a steady influx of people in and out of the apartment, drawn by the incredible tales of Sherlock and John that John typed up for his blog. Jayne was glad that for the most part, Sherlock didn't drag her along on these jaunts as he did John, since the apartment of 221 C was being prepared for her. Mycroft had kept his word and the apartment had been cleaned, special paint that locked out moisture had been applied to the concrete walls and then sheetrock and wallpaper (of Jayne's choice) had been hung. It wouldn't be long now until she had a place of her own. So why did the thought depress her?One morning as Jayne laid half asleep in bed, Sherlock beside her, she heard Mrs. Hudson moving about. Jayne groaned, she'd forgotten her promise to help clean out the fridge. Jayne had been spending so much time downstairs lately overseeing everything that she'd not had much time to be the housekeeper she'd been before for John and Sherlock. She pulled the blanket back, giggling when Sherlock wrapped his arm around her. "Cleaning up for us makes her feel useful. Stay." he ordered.

She rolled her eyes and then gasped as she heard Mrs. Hudson scream. "Boys, you have another one!"


	22. Chapter 22

**Alright, everyone. I'm so sorry this is late! I've had no concentration at all this week and just wasn't sure I'd be able to get it written at all. I also have to say a major THANK YOU! to my friend/beta avatardsherlockian! Thanks honey, you really helped with all your support this week, I needed it more than you know! **

**So here you go, enjoy, and please review, I love hearing from you all! I promise (as much as possible) to always reply to your reviews! :D**

**~J.**

* * *

Jayne could hear John complaining all the way in Sherlock's room. Something about it was embarrassing being out in the field while Sherlock was sitting cozy at home in nothing but a sheet. She laid on the bed, the blankets pulled up to her chin, listening to the back and forth between Sherlock, John and the Inspector in the field. She giggled to herself as Sherlock listed the reasons why the man who'd fainted in front of Mrs. Hudson this morning couldn't possibly be the culprit.

She must have dozed for a few minutes, and thought she heard the doorbell ringing. Her eyes opened when she heard Mrs. Hudson's voice. She shrieked, loudly, when a strange man walked straight into Sherlock's bedroom. "Miss Wyler? Your presence is required. Please come with us." She groaned. _Mycroft._ She sat up, threw off the blankets and shooed the man out of the room while she dressed.

A little while later, she and Sherlock were sitting on a couch in Buckingham Palace when John walked in, looking around in awe. He sat down gingerly beside Sherlock, looking down quickly. "Are you wearing any pants?" and Jayne had to stifle a giggle when she remembered that pants meant underwear. She knew she was blushing bright red when Sherlock snapped back with a simple "No."

"Okay." John said, right before both of them started laughing.

"At Buckingham Palace. Right. I am seriously fighting an impulse to steal an ashtray." John continued, causing all three of them to laugh harder. ""What are we doing here, Sherlock? Seriously, what?"

"I don't know." Sherlock replied.

"Here to see the queen?" John wondered.

Suddenly Mycroft appeared in the doorway and Sherlock smirked. "Oh, apparently yes," he said, causing himself and John to laugh. Jayne frowned slightly, if Mycroft had called them in, it was something important…and bad.

Mycroft looked rather annoyed when they laughed. "Just once can you two behave like grown ups?" he ground out.

"We solve crimes, I blog about it and he forgets his pants. I wouldn't hold out too much hope." John quipped.

"I was in the middle of a case, Mycroft." Sherlock spat at his older brother, clearly annoyed.

"What the hiker and the backfire? I glanced at the police report. A bit obvious, surely?" Mycroft responded.

"Transparent" Sherlock agreed.

"Time to move on, then." Mycroft began. He picked up Sherlock's clothes, stacked in front of Sherlock on the coffee table. He looked annoyed when Sherlock made no move to take them and Mycroft's voice became a bit harsher. "We are in Buckingham Palace, at the very heart of the British nation. Sherlock Holmes, put your trousers on!"

"What for?" Sherlock smugly asked.

"Your client." Mycroft was definitely getting worked up, his voice became strained.

"And my client is?" Sherlock asked, standing and staring at his brother.

"Illustrious in the extreme," Came a voice from the hall, catching everyone's attention. "And remaining, I have to inform you, entirely anonymous." said a tall, distinguished looking gentleman as he walked through the doorway. "Mycroft!" the man said, greeting Mycroft with a smile.

"Harry." Mycroft returned the greeting with a handshake, before continuing. "May I just apologize for the state of my little brother?" Mycroft said, with a touch of humor in his voice, belying his annoyance with the younger brother he spoke of. He was rather surprised to see a deep frown grace Jayne's face when he said this, not realizing how much it angered her to hear Sherlock put down by his own brother.

"A full time occupation, I imagine." Harry said, making Jayne's frown deepen even more. "And this must be Dr. John Watson, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers."

"Hello, yes." John said, sticking his hand out to shake. Harry shook it and spoke. "My employer is a tremendous fan of your blog."

He smiled again down at Jayne. "And the mysterious Miss Jayne Wyler, from the States. Pleasure to meet you. Mycroft speaks quite well of you." He said, taking her hand and kissing it, making Jayne feel incredibly uncomfortable, though she tried to hide it. She was quite certain, however, that Sherlock didn't miss the tightening around her mouth, the widening of her eyes and the slight clenching of her jaw.

"Your employer?" John asked.

"Particularly enjoyed the one about the aluminium crutch." Harry replied.

"Thank you." John said, turning to stare at Sherlock for a moment before Harry moved over to him.

"And Mr. Holmes the younger. You look taller in your photographs." Harry said, smiling that politician's smile that set Jayne's nerves on edge.

"I take the precaution of a good coat and a short friend," Sherlock said, dismissing the man. He turned to his brother. "Mycroft, I don't do anonymous clients, I'm used to mystery at one end of my cases, both ends is too much work. Good morning." Sherlock said, walking away with his sheet trailing behind him.

Mycroft stomped down on the sheet, nearly tearing it from Sherlock's body, causing Jayne to blush a bright tomato red. "This is a matter of national importance. Grow up!" Mycroft spat out.

"Get off my sheet!" Sherlock said harshly.

"Or what?" Mycroft taunted.

"Or I'll just walk away." Sherlock replied, causing Jayne to close her eyes, feeling her heartbeat pound in her ears as she blushed even darker.

"I'll let you!" Mycroft spoke just as harshly.

"Oh, boys." Jayne thought, shaking her head.

As if hearing her thoughts, John spoke softly, "Boys, please. Not here."

"Who. Is. My. CLIENT!" Sherlock growled out.

"Take a look at where you're standing and make a deduction. You are to be engaged by the highest in the land. Now for God's sake!" Mycroft's voice was now shouting, but quickly went back down to a normal, but embarrassed level when he remembered Harry, "Put your clothes on!"

Sherlock took a deep breath but finally did as his brother asked. In a few moments, everyone was sitting as tea was delivered. Mycroft spoke as he picked up the teapot. "I'll be Mother."

Sherlock smirked, "And there is a whole childhood in a nutshell."

Mycroft looked embarrassed and Jayne took pity on him. "Allow me," She said, taking the teapot and pouring out five cups, quickly adding sugar to hers, Mycroft's and Sherlock's, but none to John's, only a slice of lemon. Sherlock was once again surprised, how had she remembered how they liked their tea? "Sugar or lemon, Harry?" Jayne asked, smiling politely at him. "Sugar, please, my dear. It isn't often someone as lovely as you is pouring my tea." He grinned at her, probably thinking that as an American, she'd be taken in by his aristocratic manner. To be honest, it was annoying her to pieces. She simply handed him his cup and sat back farther onto the couch, sipping carefully at the hot tea in such delicate cups.

"My employer has a problem." Harry began, sitting back after sipping at his own tea.

Mycroft continued, "A matter has come to light of an extremely delicate and potentially criminal nature, and in this hour of need, dear brother, your name has arisen."

"Why?" Sherlock asked. "We have a police force of sorts, even a marginally secret service. Why come to me?"

"People do come to you for help, don't they, Mr. Holmes." Harry asked, smirking slightly.

"Not to date anyone with a navy." Sherlock said, smiling a little.

"This is a matter of the highest security and therefore of trust." Mycroft said plainly.

"You don't trust your own secret service?" John asked, perhaps a bit naively.

"Naturally not. They all spy on people for money." Mycroft said, smirking himself.

"I do think we have a timetable." Harry broke in.

"Yes of course." Mycroft said, reaching for his briefcase.

He clicked open the clasps and pulled out a file of pictures. "What do you know about this woman?" Mycroft asked, handing a stack of pictures of a very beautiful woman to Sherlock.

"Nothing whatsoever." Sherlock replied.

"Then you should be paying more attention," Mycroft responded.

"She's been at the center of two political scandals in the last year. And recently ended the marriage of a prominent novelist by having an affair with both participants separately. " Harry filled in.

"You know I don't concern myself with trivia," Sherlock said. "Who is she?"

Mycroft glanced at Jayne before speaking. "Irene Adler. Professionally known as The Woman."

And with those words, Jayne felt her stomach turn to ice.


	23. Chapter 23

A short while later, after Sherlock had thoroughly been as pompous as possible, they were back on their way to the flat. Jayne was thinking about Mycroft pulling her aside before they'd left. He'd asked her if she knew how to use a gun.

"Well, yes. My dad insisted his children know how to use them. I haven't used one in probably fifteen years, though, but the general sense of them doesn't fade that much, just the aim." She said, smiling softly at him. Jayne would have sworn the man actually blushed. He pressed something into her hand. She looked down and was surprised to see a small pearl-handled pistol, it's barrel was beautifully scrimshawed with swirls, whorls and her initials. "Oh my! Mycroft…this…this is too much. I can't take this!" she said softly.

He smiled at her, for once without a hint of self-importance. "Jayne, you need to be able to protect yourself when Sherlock, John or I aren't around. Besides, I've seen how reckless you are, nearly getting yourself shot. Take this too, it's a permit for your gun for concealed and non-concealed carry."

And with that, he shocked her by hugging her. She had never, in the entire time she'd watched the show, read the books, or even in her wildest imaginings thought of getting a hug from Mycroft Holmes. And it kind of broke her reservations of him. She smiled and threw her arms around him, hugging him back. "Thank you, Mycroft," She said softly.

As if the special moment was over, he stepped back, looking a little stiff as his eyes seemed to shutter his emotions down. "Very good, yes. Be safe, Jayne. Take care of that foolish brother of mine."

Jayne nodded, slid the gun-safety on-into the pocket of her jeans, knowing the jacket she was wearing would hide it from everyone but Sherlock. She knew Mycroft didn't do sentiment, he was probably mentally kicking himself for his lack of decorum. But she was honestly glad he'd hugged her. It showed that the Holmes boys weren't quite as hard as stone as the wished everyone to believe. She'd already begun to realize Sherlock wasn't, but it was nice to see that Mycroft wasn't much better than his brother at keeping his emotions entirely in check.

When she reached the boys, they were in the cab, Sherlock glaring at her for making them wait. She slid in beside him and smiled at him. Then the were on their way. She listened to John and Sherlock as they laughed about knowing how their client smoked and Sherlock had pulled a crystal ashtray from his coat. She smiled at his antics, knowing he already had some sort of plan in place to get the pictures Mycroft wanted.

Jayne had no doubts that Miss Adler most likely had the pictures hidden in a safe. And she also knew that Sherlock had some kind of a plan to get them out of the safe and back to Mycroft. So why did Jayne have such a bad feeling? It was true that Irene Adler was lovely, Jayne had seen that plainly from the photographs. But Sherlock hadn't been fazed by her pretty face, though she had seen his uncomfortableness when Mycroft had thrown the sex jab in there. Jayne was certain that she'd probably seemed just as uncomfortable. Sherlock wasn't the only one who'd never been with someone.

Jayne could feel herself growing red-faced again as she blushed and she was certain that Sherlock would call her out on it. Luckily for her, they were much too busy discussing their plan. When they arrived at the flat, Sherlock immediately went to a spare closet where he kept his costumes. She watched, a smirk on her face as he began throwing items out of the closet as he looked for one that was just right. While they waited, she headed into the kitchen and stirred a can of cream of mushroom soup with a cup of rice before putting it into a Slow cooker that she'd bought at a shop Sherlock had shown her. She added two of the soup cans full of water, a handful of fresh mushrooms that she sliced, and laid three large frozen chicken breasts on top of it. She turned the slow cooker on low and put the lid on. At least when they were finally able to make it back home, they'd have a nice hot supper ready.

Finally, still dressed in his regular clothes, Sherlock, John, and Jayne caught a cab to Miss Adler's house. Sherlock had the cab stop two streets away. The boys walked ahead while Jayne paid the cab. (Sherlock had tasked her with learning the British money system. She was slowly learning not to make a complete fool of herself when she paid!) When she turned around she was shocked to see Sherlock smack John right before John returned it with a resounding punch. She ran over as John jumped on Sherlock's back, screaming, "I had bad days!" leaving Jayne to wonder what in the hell he was going on about.

Jayne finally managed to get John off of Sherlock and tsked at them for acting like children. Though she couldn't help fussing over Sherlock when she saw the cut on his face. Sherlock pulled back, now wasn't the time for her to be mothering him. They walked a few streets over to the house of Miss Irene Adler. Sherlock surprised Jayne when put a on clerical collar. He forced himself to begin to tear up, and rang the doorbell. Jayne watched in amazement as Sherlock suddenly became an insecure, frightened priest who'd been mugged. She and John tagged along as a doctor and his sister who'd seen the whole thing.

Jayne helped John get the first aid kit from the kitchen and they walked back to the room where the maid, Kate, had put him to wait for Irene. Jayne gasped when she saw Miss Adler quite naked and with Sherlock's collar between her teeth. John put her sentiments exactly when he looked down at his bowl of water and said, "I've missed something, haven't I?"

Miss Adler did not look amused. In fact, she looked rather annoyed to see both John and Jayne. Jayne felt Irene's scrutiny, but though she was incredibly uncomfortable staring at a naked woman, Jayne met her gaze. She saw Irene's smirk as she turned away, offering a seat and tea, if they wished it. Surprising to Jayne, but evidently not to Sherlock, Irene Adler already knew that they'd been at the palace that morning. John spoke up with a quick not that he too, had tea at the palace, if anyone was interested.

Jayne sat down near Sherlock and was surprised when he looked over at John after staring at Irene for a moment. What was going through his head, she wondered. Irene launched into a little speech about disguises being a portrait of the person portraying them, while Sherlock bounced back with, "So you think I'm a vicar with a bleeding face?"

Jayne wanted to snort-laugh, because he was being so literal. But Irene continued, "No, I think you're damaged, delusional and believe in a higher power. In your case, it's yourself." She leaned forward looking at him intently. "Mmm. And somebody loves you. If I had to punch that face, I'd avoid your nose and teeth, too."

John laughed dryly, clearly uncomfortable. "Could you put something on, please? Anything at all? A napkin?" he asked, flicking the edge of the cloth hanging from the bowl he still held.

"Why? Are you feeling exposed?" Irene asked, silently laughing at him.

But Sherlock had obviously had enough of her little game. "I don't think John knows where to look." Sherlock said, standing and handing her his coat.

"No, I think he knows exactly where," Irene said, smiling wickedly at John, making both John and Jayne more uncomfortable. "Not so sure about you." She said, taking the coat from Sherlock and tying it in place around herself, while Sherlock and John bickered about John's laptop and naked women. Jayne was a little surprised when Irene sat down next to her on the sofa as Sherlock slowly paced the room. Irene looked her up and down. "Aren't you just a cute little kitty. What's your name, darling?" she asked, running a fingernail down Jayne's leg, making Jayne stiffen in surprise.

"My name is Jayne." she said, swiftly removed Irene's hand from where she'd placed it on Jayne's thigh. "And if you want to keep that hand, I suggest you keep it to yourself."

"Ooh, kitty's got claws," Irene grinned at her. Then she turned back to Sherlock. "Now tell me, I need to know. How was it done?"

"What?" Sherlock asked, looking a little thrown off.

"The hiker with the bashed in head. How was he killed?" Irene asked, removing her shoes and settling more comfortably on the couch, smiling as Jayne sat still as a statue when Irene placed her feet in Jayne's lap.

Sherlock explained that that wasn't why they were there, Irene admitted she knew that, but since they were never going to get the pictures, he might as well tell her how the hiker was killed. She and John talked for a moment about how she knew about the story, telling them that she loved detective stories and detectives. "Brainy's the new sexy," she stated, making Jayne roll her eyes. Brainy was ALWAYS sexy.

Jayne's eyes widened in surprise when Sherlock stumbled over his words as he described what had happened to the hiker. When Sherlock managed to make Irene admit that they were in the room, he sent John outside to man the door. Jayne was a little surprised at this, Sherlock certainly hadn't said anything to her about John leaving the room while they were there. But then she remembered Sherlock and John making some kind of plan while she had been staring off into space thinking.

Sherlock continued to spin his web of a story, smirking when he used Miss Adler's line of "It's the new sexy" when she didn't understand what he was asking of her. "Jackass," Jayne though, but proudly with a smile on her face.

"Oh, Noises are important. Noises can tell you everything," Sherlock said, as suddenly the loud beep of a fire alarm filled the house. Irene's eyes immediately flew to the mirror above the fireplace. "Thank you. On hearing a smoke alarm, a mother would look towards her child. Amazing how fire exposes our priorities." He said, walking towards the mirror. He clicked a button hidden in the fireplace and the mirror slowly rose, revealing a safe. "I really hope you don't have a baby in there," Sherlock joked. "All right John, you can turn it off now," He shouted at John.

Jayne stood up, in case Irene tried to attack him. She almost hoped Irene would, she brought out a fierceness and protectiveness in Jayne that Jayne certainly hadn't expected. And to be quite honest, Jayne wasn't sure if a lot of it was pure jealousy or not. Sherlock certainly had never been so amazed by Jayne's beauty that he'd stuttered.

"I said you can turn it off now!" Sherlock shouted at John, as he looked over the safe, identifying the make and model of it and studying the keys for the code. The alarm finally turned off and Jayne sighed in appreciating. The damn things always hurt her ears. Irene and Sherlock bickered back and forth for a minute before Irene told Sherlock simply to "Think."

Jayne screamed when the door suddenly burst open to reveal men with guns, one of them holding a gun to John's head. At the order to get down on the floor, Jayne immediately sank to her knees. She was furious when she realized they were Americans, probably CIA at her guess. She was afraid, terribly afraid when the leader began a countdown to putting a bullet in John's brain if Sherlock didn't open the safe. "No. Stop!" Sherlock shouted and turned to the safe. He slowly entered the code, and they all heard the "Beep" that sounded at the correctly entered code. Sherlock glanced back at Irene and she gave him a signal the others wouldn't catch. He shouted "Vatican Cameos" just as he opened the safe. John grabbed Jayne, pushing them both down on the floor as a bullet whizzed past them, killing the man who'd been holding a gun to John's head.

By the time Jayne managed to get up off the floor, she was feeling rather unhappy, because the three of them had managed to knock out the remaining CIA men. She felt a little useless. Sherlock and Irene were fighting about something in the living room as Jayne followed John as he led the way through the rest of the house. The found the maid, Kate, unconscious on the floor. "Sherlock!" John called, as he began to check the woman's respiration and pulse. "Must've come in this way," John said.

"Clearly." Sherlock said, looking around.

"It's alright, she's just out cold," John said to Irene to keep her from worrying.

"Well God knows she's used to that," Irene said, a bit coldly in Jayne's opinion. "There's a back door, Better check it, Dr. Watson. Jayne, you should go as well. In case there's more of them," Irene said, stalking towards her vanity.

"Sure," John said, rolling his eyes as he walked from the room. Jayne looked at Sherlock and he nodded, indicating she should go as well. So Jayne and John were walking to the door until they heard a thump. Jayne immediately went into panic mode and raced for the room where Sherlock was. She cried out in shock when he was on the floor, a needle in his arm. "Sherlock!" she shouted. John came running in and goggled at Sherlock before rushing to him to check him. Jayne looked at Irene with hate in her eyes, as she pulled the little pistol from her pocket. She pointed at Irene. "You BITCH! What did you give him?!"

"No worries, I've used it on loads of my friends. You know, I was wrong about him, he did know where to look.," She said. Jayne only looked at her with contempt and Irene continued. "The code to my safe. Shall I tell them?" She asked, looking at Sherlock.

Sherlock just groaned. "My measurements." Irene said with a brittle little laugh that made Jayne want to punch her. Before she could, Irene slipped out of the window she'd been perched on and was gone by the time Jayne managed to run to it. She looked down at Sherlock worriedly. It was going to be a long night.


	24. Chapter 24

As Jayne predicted, it was a VERY long night. Sherlock drifted in and out of consciousness. Jayne spent the evening by his bedside, holding his hand. Finally John had to make her come out and eat and take a shower. Jayne groused about it, but she knew he was right. "Fine, but as soon as I'm done, I'm going back in. He shouldn't be alone. There's no telling what that bitch dosed him with," Jayne growled at the very thought of Irene Adler.

"Fair enough, now go. Shower. Food. Then you can crawl back in bed with Sherlock," he teased, only half-seriously. So, to appease him, Jayne gathered a clean pair of pajamas, her toiletries and walked to the bathroom. She stepped under the hot, pulsing water and let her mind drift, humming to herself so that she wouldn't cry. Of all the things she never wanted to see, Sherlock dealing with the effects of coming down off drugs was probably as close to number one on her list as she'd ever get.

As it burned its way through his system, Sherlock began to mutter about the case of the dead hiker. Jayne wasn't at all surprised that even in his sleep Sherlock knew that the man had been killed by a boomerang. As Jayne was stepping out of the shower and wrapping herself in a towel, she heard Sherlock shouting for John and a loud resounding thump. Jayne threw open the door, and still in just a towel, ran to Sherlock's room. John was just managing to get him back into bed, where Sherlock promptly insulted him. "Why would I need you?" he asked genuinely.

"No reason at all," John said, with a roll of his eyes as he shut the door. "Git," John whispered and blushed when he realized Jayne had heard him. And then blushed even redder when he realized she was in nothing but a towel, with water dripping down her legs and down between her breasts. He quickly walked away, muttering about women walking about half-naked and flat mates who were insane.

"Damn," Jayne said when she realized she was standing there and water was puddling at her feet. She walked quickly back to the bathroom where she dressed and braided her hair back, letting it fall down her back. She washed her face and brushed her teeth. She checked on Sherlock, who was sleeping again, an odd smile on his face. She didn't notice his phone clutched in his hand.

"John, supper's ready!" she called to him as she pulled the food from the slow cooker, placing the rice and chicken mixture onto plates and putting them on the table. As John walked into the room, she poured them each a glass of lemonade, which she had learned was John's childhood favorite. John sat down at the table, but both of them knew their minds were on Sherlock. They ate in silence and were quickly finished.

"I'm rather tired. Do you mind if I go to bed?" John asked Jayne.

"Of course not, go on, John. I can take care of all of this. Rest well," Jayne said, smiling at him and kissing the top of his head as she picked their plates up and took them to the sink. He patted her shoulder as he left the room.

"If you need anything, just call out, I'll come running!" John said before he shut his door.

Jayne smiled as she washed the dishes and put the leftover food away. She left the slow cooker to soak overnight so that it would be easy to clean. Finally finished, she stretched and walked back to Sherlock's room, turning off lights and closing the windows she'd had propped open to let in some fresh air. She checked to make sure the front door was locked. She finally made it to Sherlock's room, the apartment dark and quiet.

Sherlock was still asleep when she shut the door behind her and she climbed carefully into the bed beside him to keep from waking him. She laid there, halfway asleep already, a smile on her face. A few months ago, saying that she was climbing into Sherlock Holmes's bed would have warranted a trip to the Psych Ward. Not it was just an everyday occurrence. She closed her eyes and drifted off, unaware of Sherlock snuggling her close and breathing in her scent.

The next morning found all three of them sitting at the small dining room table. Mrs. Hudson had insisted on cooking breakfast herself, and making sure that her Sherlock was alright and taken care of. "Nothing against you, dear, I know you'll take good care of him," she'd said, making Jayne smile. Mycroft was standing near the kitchen, extolling how he'd had to make apologies to the "client". Mrs. Hudson fussed at him for putting his brother in danger.

"Oh shut up, Mrs. Hudson!" He snapped at the older woman and was immediately shouted at by all of them, surprising him. He felt a little foolish when even Jayne shouted and frowned at him. "Apologies," Mycroft said, sounding polite but practically rolling his eyes in annoyance. Mrs. Hudson smiled at them all before Sherlock put in his two cents, "Though do in fact, shut up," he said, earning a kick in the shin under the table from Jayne. Sherlock frowned at her and he and Mycroft continued speaking about Irene Adler just as his phone let out a rather sexy moan.

Jayne nearly choked on her tea, earning a few sharp slaps on the back from John. "Thank you," she coughed. "What was that!" she gasped. Mycroft's phone began ringing and he walked into the other room to take he call. John had a small smile on his face as he thought about it. "Why does your phone make that noise?"

Sherlock tried to play innocent. "What noise?"

"That noise the noise it just made," John said, not letting it go. And not realizing that Jayne was watching and listening to them intently.

"It's a text alert, means I've got a text," Sherlock said, looking meaningfully at his newspaper.

"Your texts don't usually make that noise." John replied.

"Well someone got ahold of the phone, and apparently as a joke, personalized their text alert noise," Sherlock said in annoyance.

"So every time they text you," John began, before the phone moaned again. Jayne and John's eyes both widened.

"It would seem so," Sherlock said, as Mrs. Hudson said, "Could you turn that phone down a bit? At my time of life its…"

If it had been anyone else, Jayne would have sworn they were blushing, but Sherlock buried his face into the newspaper again. John continued, "See, I'm wondering who could have got hold your phone, because it would have been in your coat, wouldn't it?"

Sherlock raised the newspaper higher. "I'll leave you to your deductions," Sherlock spoke in an annoyed tone.

"I'm not stupid, you know," John said, grinning a little.

"Where do you get that idea?" Sherlock asked.

Mycroft walked back into the room, speaking about something called Bond Air. Sherlock was immediately incensed. "What else does she have?" he asked. Mycroft looked at him questioningly. "Irene Adler. The Americans wouldn't be interested in her for a couple of compromising photographs. There's more. Much more." he said, standing. "Something big's coming isn't it?" he asked his older brother.

"Irene Adler is no longer any concern of yours," Mycroft said, annoyance clear in his voice. "From now on you will stay out of this."

"Oh, will I?" Sherlock growled.

"Yes, Sherlock. You will." Mycroft ordered. Mycroft took his leave, saying he had to give an apology to an old friend.

"Do give her my love," Sherlock teased, beginning to play the opening notes to God Save the Queen as Mycroft left. Jayne sighed, who knew what mischief Sherlock would get into while he was under orders not to look any farther into the Adler case. At the moment she thought it, Sherlock's phone let another moaning-text alert and Jayne felt her patience with the woman snap. She stood and gathered her plate and glass and washed them quickly before she picked up her cell phone. She dialed a number and smiled when it was picked up on the other side.

"Molly, how would you like to hang out this afternoon?"


	25. Chapter 25

First of all, you guys are all awesome. I love hearing from each and every one of you. That includes my guest posters and those that have their private messaging turned off so that I can't reply to your reviews, but I want to let you know that you, too, are appreciated!

Secondly, I thought I'd be a little bit awesome and release this chapter a bit early. It's been a heck of a week and I think we could all use some extra goodness to make it a bit better.

As always, I hope you love and enjoy it and please leave me reviews if you want, they totally make my day~

~J.

* * *

Molly stared in horror at the building that loomed before them. She turned to stare at Jayne. "Are you serious, Jayne?"

Jayne grinned and nodded, grabbing her friend's hand and beginning to pull her towards the building. "Absolutely. Self-defense is important, and after the last few months, you and I both need to know more. I certainly need a refresher course and you need training as well. I'm not letting my best friend get hurt when she could have protected herself."

Molly blushed. "Am I really your best friend, Jayne?" she asked softly.

Jayne grinned even wider. "You better believe it, doll-face. You and I are like this," she said, twining her fingers, not knowing what that did to Molly's heart, making her smile and feel IMPORTANT for the first time in her life. "Now come on, we're going to go learn some karate moves and take out our frustrations on some idiot in padding." Silently, and a bit apprehensively, Molly trudged behind Jayne.

Twenty minutes later, both Jayne and Molly were clothed in odd-looking clothes, a mix somewhere between a martial arts ghi and a tracksuit. Jayne wondered who in the hell designed this damn outfit. "Probably someone with more money than brains," she decided. The rest of the class, she and Molly included, stood in a semi-circle around the instructor. The man looked like a wall of muscles and Jayne was a little afraid. Poor Molly looked terrified. "I want you to come at me and try and take me down," He instructed and stepped back in what looked like a comfortable, nonchalant stance.

Nobody seemed to want to be the first to go, so Jayne sighed, shrugged and attacked. And learned very quickly that while the man looked to be not paying attention, he damn well was. She was flat on her back, her ass aching, in thirty seconds. He looked down at her. "Good try. But your approach was a little too direct and easy to see. Next time, try coming in from the side or a surprise attack." He smiled and gave her a hand to help her up.

Jayne nodded, bowing slightly to the man, somewhat afraid of an attack of his own. But he made no move towards her, just the simple, respectful bow. He turned to Molly. "You're a tiny little thing. But that gives you an advantage. Come here, little one." He said, motioning Molly forward. Molly looked extremely uncomfortable as she walked to the instructor. He raised his hand and wrapped it around Molly's wrist. Molly's eyes widened and she began to panic, twisting and turning trying to get away. "Calm down, Miss. I want you to breathe and think. I have your wrist. I don't have your legs or your other hand. Use those. Think about the sensitive parts of the body. Nose, instep, Think of the movie Miss Congeniality. S-I-N-G. Solar Plexus. Instep. Nose. Groin," he said, pointing to each area with his other hand.

Molly nodded and breathed deeply. She kicked him hard in the shin then stomped her foot down on his instep. She punched him hard in the gut and then rammed him with her elbow into his nose. With a look of indecision, Molly grimaced and kneed him in the groin. He gasped sharply and dropped to his knees. He hadn't thought she'd have the balls to kick him in the genitals. He sucked in a deep breath. "Well done, little one. Well done. Class dismissed," he gasped out and Jayne and Molly hurried over to make sure he was alright.

He finally convinced them that he would be fine but that he looked forward to seeing them at the next class. Jayne and Molly both assured him that they would be there. They returned to the locker room to change into their own clothing and left the building that housed the self-defense classes.

"What should we do now?" Jayne asked Molly. Molly smiled, it was so refreshing to have someone ask her opinion on something and then not immediately ignore it. Her rumbling stomach decided for her.

"How about a rather late lunch? I know this really great Italian place!" Molly said.

"Sounds good!" agreed Jayne. She was just glad to have gotten some frustration with the whole Sherlock/Irene Adler situation. Now she was rather hungry too. Much to Jayne's mirth, Molly took them to Angelo's, the restaurant where Sherlock and John had eaten (Well, John had eaten) when they were trying to catch the killer from the first episode of season one of _Sherlock__._

They were seated quickly, and Jayne couldn't help laughing to herself as she remembered the rather awkward conversation between Sherlock and John about boyfriends, girlfriends and Sherlock being married to his work. A waiter finally came to take their order. Molly ordered lasagna that, from the picture in the menu, looked cheesy, gooey and wonderful. Jayne chose the build your own pasta, with fettuccine alfredo, mushrooms, chicken, asparagus and spinach. They both order a crisp white wine to drink. The waiter bowed slightly, winking at Jayne, which had her blushing and made Molly giggle.

They shared a small basket of freshly baked rolls-though they both thought that Jayne's were better-and chatted about Molly's work. She overlooked Molly's occasional slip into the grotesquerie that was a pathologist's life. Jayne told Molly that as a child Jayne had considered being a pediatric nurse. "Up until I was in high school and one of the boys in my class had a severe seizure in the middle of our class playing flag football. I froze so badly that I couldn't move. I knew then that there was no way I'd be able to handle the kind of stress that an emergency situation like that would create."

Molly looked at Jayne with an odd grimace. "What?" Jayne asked, surprised at her friend's look.

"Jayne, you threw yourself in front of a gun for me. If that's not an emergency situation, I don't know what is. And you'd be a wonderful nurse. Look at how you take care of John and Sherlock, and I can't imagine two bigger man-child type people than those two," Molly huffed. Jayne just grinned at her, but then sobered quickly.

"Molly, I honestly have no idea how I did that, and besides you saw me fall apart afterwards. And you saw how I was the day I arrived here. I was a wreck. The only thing I knew the day we were robbed was that I wasn't going to let anything happen to you. That was the only thing that got me through it. If it had been just me, I'd probably have begged and pleaded and screamed and cried," Jayne protested.

Molly honestly didn't believe her, but didn't say anything. Finally their food arrived. As predicted, Molly's lasagna was wonderfully smothered in cheese and sauce and she moaned softly on the first bite. Jayne's pasta dish was divine, the creamy sauce melted on the tongue, the chicken was moist and delicious and the vegetables were perfectly tender-crisp.

They continued talking about non-essential nonsense until Jayne suddenly felt eyes on her. She looked up and was unsurprised to see Sherlock staring at her from a table in the corner, the shadows darkening his face, only his eyes brightly visible in the pale glow of candlelight. He noticed her noticing him and smiled slightly. Suddenly Molly looked down at her watch. "Oh no! I'm going to be late!" she cried. She looked imploringly at Jayne.

Jayne just smiled, "Go, woman! I won't have you late on my account." Molly tried to pull money from her wallet to pay half. "Don't even think about it. Mycroft's paying tonight," Jayne giggled conspiratorially at Molly and waved her goodbye. When Molly had gone, Jayne grabbed her glass of wine and her bowl of fettuccine and walked over to where Sherlock was sitting, surprising him a little.

She put her bowl of food down and her glass and sat down beside him. "Fancy meeting you here, stranger," she said softly, a smile tugging the corners of her lips up softly. She began to twirl a forkful of fettuccine on her fork and held it to Sherlock's lips. He glared at her and she smiled wider. "Take a bite, Sherlock, it's not poisoned, I promise."

He sighed and opened his mouth and she put the pasta in his mouth, nearly blushing at the way his mouth looked as it pulled the pasta from the fork. She quickly looked down at her bowl and grabbed the glass of wine, taking a fortifying swig of it. "Not bad. Bit heavy on the white pepper," he said, taking her glass and sipping from it.

"I thought you didn't know how to cook!" Jayne demanded.

He grinned. "Never said I didn't know how, just that I don't usually care to. John's atrocious at it, I don't want to employ a cook. Tinned stuff's fine by me. Or if I really feel up to a good meal, I mooch off you." he said, taking her fork and swirling another bite onto it, this time holding it to her lips. She clenched her lips closed.

And gasped when she felt his lips at her ear, "Eat your food, Jayne." he said silkily. She blushed bright red but opened her mouth obediently and took the bite from the fork. "Good girl," he whispered into her ear, and she felt her ears and face burning as the blush covered her face. She turned her face to tell him off when the unexpected happened. His lips were closer than she'd expected and when she turned her face, their lips met in a completely unplanned kiss.


	26. Chapter 26

**Surprise! Two chapters in one week, and early even! You all have no idea how much I loved all of your reviews! I'm so glad you all like Jayne and Sherlock! :D Completely makes my whole universe when y'all leave me such happy, wonderful reviews! Also, just a note. I have a huge tendency to call everyone honey, sweetie, darling, etc. It's a Southern thing, so please don't be offended if I do it. I honestly do t without even thinking, it's an automatic response. And now, on to our story!**

**~J.**

* * *

He hadn't spoken to her in three days. Three whole days where he barely even looked at her. He'd barely spoken, growled, or grunted to her. What the hell was his PROBLEM? Jayne stared despondently down at her tea, going over and over the kiss in her mind. She certainly hadn't planned it. It had taken her just as much by surprise as it apparently had Sherlock. But Jayne hadn't immediately stood up and stalked out of the restaurant without so much as a "see ya later."

Jayne had finally moved past disbelief at his actions and was now moving swiftly towards downright furious. How dare he just walk off like that without a word. Without at least, ya know, acknowledging what had just happened! Ughhhhh! The nerve of the man!

Jayne picked up her teacup and carried it to the sink rinsing it quickly and setting it in the drain rack. While she was so worked up, she decided to cook. If nothing else, the attention the ingredients needed would keep her mind and hands busy. She began by dipping cubed beef pieces into flour and rolling them around to coat them. She added a little oil to a skillet and let it heat for a few minutes before adding the beef to the pan. While it browned, she cut small baby potatoes into quarters, peeled and sliced carrots, chopped an onion, and sliced a few stalks of celery.

She took the browned beef out of the pan and let it rest on a plate. She added a little more flour to the oil, making a thick, sticky paste called a roux. She let it turn a pale golden color before she added a few cups of chicken broth and stirred it, smiling as it began to thicken. She poured the chicken stock mixture into the stoneware insert of the slow cooker, along with the beef she'd browned. She wiped out the skillet and added another tablespoon of oil before adding two tablespoons of tomato paste. She browned the paste until it was dark brown, then added a can of V8 juice to thin it. She stirred the mixture together and poured it over the beef. She then added the vegetables she'd already chopped and placed the lid on the cooker, turning it on low to begin cooking. She took fresh brown button mushrooms out of the refrigerator and wiped them clean with a damp towel before slicing them in half and putting them in a baggie. She'd add them in a few hours so that they wouldn't be non-existent in the finished beef stew.

She turned on the radio that sat in the window and grinned when Two Black Cadillacs by Carrie Underwood came on. She sang along to the tune about a man who was double-crossing his wife and his girlfriend, who then got together and killed him, and came to his funeral and nodded to each other over their misdeed and walked away.

While it played, she gathered the ingredients from the cupboard for homemade bread: flour, sugar, yeast, salt and water. She carefully measured out a cup of lukewarm water, added a tablespoon and a half of sugar and poured the tiny packed of yeast into the water. She set a timer for twenty minutes and began measuring out two cups of flour, sifting them and placing them in a large, clean metal bowl that she'd bought using Mycroft's card. (She couldn't bring herself to think of it as hers, it seemed too permanent.) When the timer dinged, Jayne added the yeast mixture to the flour and began to mix it with her (clean!) fingers. When it was a sticky mess, Jayne washed her hands again and dried them well before sprinkling flour down on the counter and turning the dough out onto it. She sprinkled more flour on top and began to knead the dough, rolling it away from her and then towards here with swift movements. She kneaded the dough for a good twenty minutes before she deemed it ready to let rise.

She washed, rinsed and dried the big metal bowl she'd used to mix the dough before she oiled it lightly and put the dough inside. She covered it with a clean tea towel and left it to rise for an hour. She turned and walked into a very tall, very annoying man. "Dammit, Sherlock! You almost gave me a heart attack!" Jayne squealed, clutching a hand over her heart, which was now beating about a hundred times faster than it should be.

He smirked and she scoffed at him. "Serious, next time warn a girl before you simply appear in her kitchen," she groused, not realizing she had used such a possessive pronoun. But truthfully, she did consider John and Sherlock's apartment her home, or at least as close to a home as she had here. She was a little sad to be moving downstairs, though she certainly wouldn't miss the mess and Sherlock's constant attempts to drag her into mischief. Just last week he'd gotten them tossed out of a theater when he attempted to tell everyone just why the Corporal couldn't have murdered the Private's girlfriend and made it home in time to put the kids to bed with his wife.

"I simply came to see what you were taking your frustration out on. It sounded like you were throwing clay on a potter's wheel." He shrugged and turned to walk away.

"Well if I am frustrated, which I'm not, you've got no one to blame but yourself, Sherlock Holmes! That kiss was an accident! I didn't know you were so bloody close! And LOOK! Now you've got me talking like you, dammit! Gahhhh!" She shrieked and moved to walk past him when he grabbed her wrists, stopping her.

For the first time, Jayne was a little afraid of Sherlock. There was such a strange mixture of emotions in his eyes that she didn't know whether to boss him around for grabbing her or run for her life. "You think I'm angry with you because you kissed me?" he smirked.

She gasped. "I did not kiss you, you slimy, malformed git! I turned my head to tell you how ridiculous you were being and I didn't realized your damn face was so close. You're the one who held your lips there before you stomped off like a child!" she shouted at him.

He glared at her and she glared right back. "You think I'm ashamed because I kissed you? Or that I'm somehow, I don't know, repulsed by you?" Sherlock hissed. Jayne crossed her arms over her chest and nodded.

"I do. What the hell else was I supposed to think, Sherlock, when you took off like a pack of wild dogs was at your heels? And then you ignored me for three days?! I figured you must have been disgusted by it or unhappy somehow. And I knew you blamed me for it. " She winced as Sherlock tightened his grip on her wrists.

"Good lord, woman, you are absolutely ridiculous," Sherlock whispered. He looked down at her with a completely unfathomable emotion in his eyes.

Jayne felt the tears welling up in her eyes and closed them quickly to keep the tears from falling. But she wasn't quick enough, they streaked down her cheeks as she felt the breath in her chest stop and her throat felt clenched shut. She whimpered as she tried to get ahold of herself, knowing how much Sherlock hated hysterics.

Her eyes flew opened when Sherlock pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. "You are in no way repulsive, Jayne." he said softly. He smiled down at her and then did the most remarkable thing. Sherlock Holmes, very directly and deliberately bent his face down and covered Jayne's lips with his own.


	27. Chapter 27

**Love you all for the amazing reviews, so a super surprise! 3 chapters in one week!'**

**~J.**

* * *

The sound of a clearing throat broke them apart. Jayne started guiltily at the sound and Sherlock just stepped back with a rather pleased look on his face. John stood there looking at them both with amusement in his eyes. "Hamish." he said, causing them both to look at him strangely. "John Hamish Watson, just if you were looking for baby names."

Sherlock scoffed and rolled his eyes. He released Jayne's wrists and stepped back from her. Meanwhile, Jayne was staring at John, waiting for him to rain down fire and brimstone on their heads. She was rather surprised when he grinned and sat down at his desk with his laptop. Without another word, he flipped open the laptop and began typing up one of his infamous blogs.

"John Hamish Watson, I swear on all that's holy, if you talk about me and Sherlock kissing in that blog, I'll poison you!" Jayne grated out.

"Wouldn't think of it, darling!" John said, throwing his head back and laughing, wishing she hadn't said anything because now he was having trouble thinking about anything else besides wanting to write about it. He sighed and closed the laptop. As he walked by, he kissed Jayne on the cheek, grinning harder when there was the sound of a slight growl in the kitchen coming from Sherlock. A growl that made Jayne's cheeks burn red.

John left, shutting the door behind him. They could hear him whistling as he trotted down the stairs. Jayne blew out a breath and turned to say something to Sherlock when he walked up to her, pulled her hair back and began kissing her again right where they'd left off. Jayne let out a muffled protest, not at the kiss but the fierceness and hunger of it. _Where had __that __come from_? she thought. She was surprised even more when he gripped her shoulders, pulling her closer before he wrapped his arms around her.

He sighed into her lips and pulled back, kissing her softly twice more before looking into her eyes. Though she felt the blush burning her cheeks, and she was certain her eyes were wide as could be, she could see a hint of fear and vulnerability in Sherlock's. How should she react?" she thought. If she was honest with herself, she would throw herself back into his arms and kiss him to oblivion. So she fell back on the reaction that suited the moment best. "Wow." she whispered, looking up into his eyes. She was rewarded with the brightest smile she'd ever seen on Sherlock's face (unless there was a serial murderer on the loose, but even this one eclipsed the other).

She grinned and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him down to her level where she kissed him softly again. He groaned and had to put his hands on her shoulders to push her back a little. All this kissing business was filling his head with thoughts that were not of real information. Mostly they were thoughts of how soft she felt in his arms and how good she would look naked and under him. He was very glad at that moment that he was not the blushing sort.

"So where did you go?" she asked, breaking into his thoughts. He looked confused for a moment, so she clarified, knowing the brief moment of romance was over for now. "When you left the restaurant. Where did you go?" she asked Sherlock again.

"I went to see Lestrade." he replied, an answer that completely surprised Jayne. He took her wrist and led her to the couch, pulling her into his lap. A move that completely stunned and excited Jayne. Sherlock had never been one to cuddle except on the rare occasion she had a nightmare; and even then it was more so that she'd stop crying and go back to sleep. And he had never been possessive before. She leaned her head on his chest and he idly stroked her hair.

"I'm going to be brutally honest," he began and she giggled. "Oh, yes, let's try that for a change," she grinned up at him. He scowled at her, but she kissed him again and he rolled his eyes before continuing. "As I said, brutally honest. I've never been one to believe in emotions, sentiment. I've always been a man of science, of fact. And then there's you, Jayne. A true enigma, as though spawned out of a dream. You appeared out of thin air, in my own bed, while I was in the room. You probably would not believe the amount of tests, readings, that I've used to try and catch you in a lie, to find some way to disprove what happened. But there's not."

"And then I began to notice other things about you, besides simply the enigma you are. You claimed to know so much about me. You stood up for me to Anderson and Donovan, and even to Mycroft who is a very hard man for most people to put up with, let alone keep him from bullying them. Everyone who knows you seems to love you, even Mycroft." Those strange blue-green-grey eyes looked into hers. "I tried again and again to fight any feeling towards you whatsoever besides trying to discover who you are and how you got here."

"And then, I found out how very brave you are. Saving Molly and managing to get shot in the process. Being kidnapped and then nearly shot by Moriarty and nearly blown up by me in my quest to stop him. Through it all you were brave, magnificent, really." He grinned and kissed the tip of her nose, causing her to blush and smile. "You're smart, too. Not smart as me, of course," he said, smiling and making Jayne roll her eyes, "but certainly more so than your average idiot out walking the streets daily."

"And then of course, there's the fact that you cook like a goddess. I don't think I've eaten this good since we had a very special cook and nanny named Mrs. Hiddleston when I was a boy. Honestly, some of yours are better than hers, but if you ever say so, I'll blatantly lie," he grinned at her. Jayne was so surprised, she'd never heard Sherlock be so open or so talkative. It was an entirely new experience.

Suddenly the timer for the bread dinged, breaking their peaceful interlude. "Damn," Jayne mumbled under her breath. Sherlock released her and she stood, stretched and walked towards the kitchen, not realizing Sherlock watched her butt the whole way and smirked.

Jayne pulled the tea towel from the bread dough and saw that it had risen correctly. She punched the dough down and kneaded it again. This time, however, she cut the large mass of dough into two pieces and placed them in lightly greased loaf pans. She placed them onto a large cookie sheet and placed it in a 350 oven. She turned the timer on and set it for 50 minutes, the bread should be ready then.

She smiled and made her way back to the couch, happy to see Sherlock still there. Then something caught her eye. "Sherlock, look! It's snowing! First snow of the season!" she practically bounced as she walked to the window. She smiled as she watched the snow falling. It quickly began to cover the streets and buildings in a layer of clean, fresh whiteness. Jayne loved how it made everything look so pristine.

"It doesn't snow much in the South where I'm from. This is quite a treat. You see on television and movies how it's always a White Christmas. I've never had a White Christmas. It's always been red clay mud and fake pine trees," She said, and then jolted a little when Sherlock's arms wrapped around her from behind and he rested his chin on the top of her head, trying to see his city through her eyes.

She sighed and leaned her head back on his shoulder, glad of the curtains that kept anyone else from seeing this moment of them together. She leaned her head back to look up at him and blushed when he pressed a soft kiss to her lips. She grinned at him when he pulled back. "Don't tell John, but we are _never _naming a child Hamish."


	28. Chapter 28

**Well folks, I'm afraid I have some bad news. My parents have recently decided to get rid of our wifi and go back to dial-up (*sigh*). So I don't know when I'll be able to get the next chapter up, and I don't know when exactly they plan on having it turned off. Just know that I will keep writing and hopefully it won't be long before I post again. I want to thank you all so much for your wonderful reviews, they really mean the world to me! *Hugs for you all!***

**~J.**

* * *

Jayne was bundled up in a large down-filled coat of an almost apoplectic purple color and a pair of jeans under which she had pulled on a pair of leggings just for an extra layer of warmth. Her sweater under the coat was a deep forest green and there was a plain white turtleneck under it. And she was still frozen. "Dammit, where are we going now, Molly?" she whined, wincing at herself.

Molly just laughed, dragging Jayne by the wrist to another shop in the street that seemed to be lined with them. "Only a few more shops, Jayne. Besides, you still have yet to find gifts for everyone. Do you know what you're going to get for Sherlock yet?" Molly asked, as they stepped out of the cold, windy winter day into the bright warmth of one of Jayne's favorite stores, it was filled with deliciously scented soaps, oils, shampoos, conditioners, candles and other bath and body goodies. She so badly wanted to whip out that card of Mycroft's and take one of everything home.

She smiled and did manage to find a way to motion the shopkeeper over, keeping an eye on Molly. When she saw that Molly had made her way back to a beautifully carved gift basket filled with rosemary and mint scented bath items, Jayne surreptitiously slipped her credit card to the saleswoman to wrap it up and have it delivered to the apartment the next day. Finally, still looking back at the divine gift set, Molly and Jayne left the shop.

The next shop was a beautiful book shop and Jayne smiled, she knew she'd find something for Mycroft here. And she was right, in a corner under a large volume of Shakespeare, Jayne found a beautiful silver and crystal pen and inkwell. It had holders for two pens and two beautiful crystal ink bottles that shone brightly. She knew Mycroft would love it for his desk. She picked it up and carried it to the counter. Something she saw made her stop and smile, and she picked it up as well, it would be perfect for Sherlock.

She made polite conversation with the clerk while he rung up her purchase. As she and Molly were leaving the shop, her phone rang. Jayne smiled as it showed who was calling. "Hello, Mycroft! Was just thinking about you!"

"Hello Jayne, dear. How's the Christmas shopping going?" Mycroft's voice said from the phone.

Jayne grinned. "It's going quite well. And I know you have people following me. If they tell you what I got you for Christmas, I'll never forgive you. It's a surprise!"

She heard him sigh and it made her smile. "Very well, then. I do have a small favor to ask, Jayne. Though I'm not a particular fan of the holidays, I'm afraid I have to host a small Christmas party here at home. I was wondering if you would be willing to serve as my hostess for the evening? It's a rather fancy affair, I know you're not fond of those, (And she hadn't been since he'd dragged her to one a month ago and she'd nearly tripped one of the masses of waiters in the room, thoroughly embarrassing both of them) but I only ask because there's no one else I can ask. Mother's away for the holiday."

Jayne frowned. She shifted from foot to foot. She sighed. And finally, she agreed. "Okayyy. But if I trip another waiter, that's it, I'm never doing anything like this again, understand?"

"Perfectly. Thank you, dear." And then he was gone.

Jayne glared at the phone before flipping it shut and shoving it in her pocket. "Damn." she grumbled. "Molly! We have to go find a dress!" she told her friend, and began to explain why she needed a fancy dress.

Three days later, it was time for the party and Jayne was in one of the upstairs guest bedrooms getting ready. She looked at herself in the mirror, and nodded. The dress was a stunning midnight blue that fell in a waterfall of gauzy layered fabric to her knees. It was held up by silver-beaded spaghetti straps and the back was corseted with silver ribbon. Her jewelry was simple: the ring Sherlock had given her to replace the one she'd lost, small sapphire studs in her ears, and a beautiful silver hair comb that Mycroft had given her as an early Christmas present and thanks for acting as hostess for this shindig. Jayne had to admit, it was beautiful, done in a flower motif and studded with sapphires. Though how he'd known the color of her dress is something she really didn't want to know. Her hair was partially pulled up in a bun and secured with the hair comb, the rest fell down her back in a cascade of soft ringlets and curls.

She stepped carefully into the shoes she had bought, a pair of lovely sapphire-colored strappy heels. She was glad the heels weren't too high, she didn't feel like tottering around on stilettos all night long. She buckled them into place, and just to be devilish, put a lovely silver anklet around one ankle. She checked herself one last time in the mirror and nodded to herself. She looked okay.

She walked out of the room, closing it and locking it behind her with the key that Mycroft had given her. She walked towards the stairs and felt nervous as she began to come down them. She was surprised to see Mycroft, John (looking rather dashing in his uniform) and Sherlock waiting for her. What she truly didn't expect were their expressions. John was slack-jawed and Mycroft was smiling a real smile. But Sherlock. Sherlock was what took her breath away. He looked proud! He stepped up to taker her arm and placed it on his own, leading her down the stairs careful of her heels.

He leaned over and whispered into her ear, "You are stunning, Jayne." There was a tinge of awe in his voice. "Thank you. You clean up nicely yourself," she whispered back. And it was true. He was wearing a very nice suit in navy blue, not quite the same shade as Jayne's dress. The shirt under the jacket was a lovely shade of dark plum. He didn't wear a tie, which Jayne had to admit she liked being able to see that small triangle of skin at his throat (that she couldn't stop imagining nibbling on).

Mycroft cleared his throat, causing Jayne and Sherlock to stare at him blankly. "Forgive me, brother dear, but Jayne is _my _hostess tonight. And since the party is about to begin, I'm afraid I'm going to have to borrow her."

Sherlock grumbled under his breath but gently placed Jayne's hand in Mycroft's...for the time being. He fully intended to reclaim her once the greetings and introductions were finished, and he was terribly glad that Mycroft had placed him next to Jayne, it would make the evening slightly bearable. The only reason he was even here was because Jayne had insisted that he, John, Molly and Greg Lestrade had been invited as well.

Sherlock had to admit that even though he knew Jayne was rather pretty, he hadn't expected the vision she was tonight. The dark blue dress made her skin luminous, the silver drew the eye to the slim lines of her neck and the curve of her breasts. Her hair was a mass of oak-brown curls that shone in the light of the chandeliers. He had to smile when he saw that even with the rest of the fancy jewelry she had on, she still had on the ring that he'd given her.

He and John followed Jayne and Mycroft to the foyer where a butler was waiting for the guests to arrive. A number of waiters were waiting in the wings to pass out hors d'oerves and glasses of champagne. He saw Jayne eyeing a glass of champagne, probably wanting something to calm her nerves, he reasoned. She really did hate events like these. They mostly bored Sherlock. Though he had deduced some rather interesting information over the years from some of these people who lived the high life.

The door was knocked upon, the first guest had arrived. Sherlock saw Jayne take a sharp breath and let it out and plaster a smile on her face. He was proud of her, he admitted to himself. As terrified as she was of crowds and of embarrassing herself or Mycroft, she still stood there waiting to greet guests as though she had done it her entire life.

A half-hour later, the party was well under way, and Jayne felt herself finally begin to relax. She was sipping on the single glass of champagne she'd allowed herself. She'd been so glad when Molly had show up with Greg. Molly had looked rather lovely in a black dress with silver piping, though Jayne wished Molly had let her do her hair, it was pulled back into an odd updo and pinned with a red flower. It clashed a little with the dress. And her makeup was a bit too heavy. Molly needed to stick with softer colors.

Sighing, Jayne leaned against a wall and watched the gathering. A small 6-piece band was squished into one corner of a ballroom and couples were dancing, gliding across the floor. People stood in small groups discussing investments and politics. Like a prom, there was a backdrop against a wall where you could have your picture taken. Mycroft had already subjected her to that horror.

She noticed a commotion by the doorway to the kitchen and decided to investigate. One of the guests, who obviously hadn't limited himself to just one glass of champagne, had one of the waitresses backed up against a counter, brandishing a knife. He was pressing himself against the young woman, bending her back against the counter. The girl was begging him to leave her alone and let her do her job, but he just grasped her breasts in one meaty hand, tapping the blade of the knife against the button of her trousers.

Jayne cleared her throat loudly to get his attention. He turned his attention to her and she remembered his name. "There you are, Thomas. I believe you promised me a dance, didn't you?" she said, trying to end this politely without violence.

He scoffed. "Go 'way. Busy here." He gripped his crotch, rubbing it. "Will get to you later. Now go 'way." He turned back to the terrified girl.

"Oh, I'm afraid I can't do that, Thomas. You see, you're scaring my help. I can't have that. Now I'm going to have to ask you nicely to come back out and join the party." Jayne said, crossing her arms over her chest, feeling the anger starting to flood her system. Why did some people have to be idiots and get drunk and ruin a perfectly good party?

He grunted and turned towards her, raising the knife menacingly. She simply raised an eyebrow at him. He shouted when the young waitress ran out of the room, probably to find her supervisor and tell him what was going on in the kitchen. Jayne simply stared at Thomas and held her hand out for the knife.

"Hand it over, Thomas. You're embarrassing yourself and you'll be lucky if charges aren't pressed." she said evenly.

"She won't do n'thing. I didn't do n'thing. Ish my word agains' hers. Who d'you thing police 're gon b'lieve? Some two-bit piece of arse, or a fine gentleman like *hiccup* me?" He grinned at her and she felt her pissed-off level reach a boiling point. He still brandished the knife at her but she simply grabbed the nearest object-a stainless steel skillet- and whacked him with it as hard as she could in the arm.

Thomas screamed in pain, dropping the knife. "You bitch!" he screamed, lunging for her. He was pretty inebriated and by simply moving out of the way, he managed to launch himself into the front of the wall-ovens and was thrown backwards. He stood up, weaving on his unsteady feet, and raised his fist to hit her. Jayne was madder than she could ever remember being and without a thought, sent her fist cracking into the man's jaw, knocking him out cold. She stood over his prone body and winced at the pain that was coursing through her poor hand.

Suddenly Sherlock was there, as was Lestrade and John. They'd seen the entire thing and Jayne blushed, knowing they'd watched her hit a man with a skillet. John grinned at her. "Remind me never to make you mad when there are cooking implements nearby."

Sherlock simply took her hand and began to pull her out of the kitchen, leaving Lestrade and John to deal with Thomas. Jayne was nervous for some reason and was quite shocked when Sherlock pulled them out onto the dance floor. She was amazed when he began to lead in a rather passionate tango. "Sherlock, you dance?" she said, a smile gracing her face.

He smirked, "Lessons as a child." he nodded and began to move them around the room, under the watchful eyes of Mycroft. When the dance ended, everyone clapped for Sherlock and Jayne, he was truly a marvelous dancer. Jayne looked at Sherlock. "Can we go home now? I'm ready for some sleep after all this excitement." Sherlock nodded and led the way out. Mycroft nodded goodnight to them. As they walked out, they saw Thomas being loaded into a waiting police car, Lestrade himself talking to the officer in charge. Thomas glared at her murderously and she merely waved at him and smiled.

Jayne was never so happy to be home. To her surprise, Sherlock insisted on helping her out of the dress, unzipping the back for her and making her blush as he pressed soft kisses along the back of her neck and spine. But that was as far as Jayne was comfortable with, for tonight. So they climbed into bed, Jayne cuddle against Sherlock, and both of them dreamed sweet dreams of the other.


	29. Chapter 29

**Ok everyone, with the impending doom of having my wifi turned off and almost no way to post that I have figured out yet, I have decided to try to write and post as many chapters as I can before it happens. That might turn out to be just one or it could turn out to be ten depending on when my parents decided to have it turned off. Know that I love you all and so very much appreciate you're love of my story and your wonderful reviews! *HUGS***

**~J.**

* * *

The morning of Christmas Eve, Jayne woke with a start. Her dreams had been replaying the fight with Thomas again and then the dance with Sherlock. She laid back, looking over at him, sleeping deeply and dreaming. She stared up at the ceiling and grinned to herself. Who would have thought that Sherlock Holmes knew how to tango? Jayne admitted that she never would have guessed it.

She noticed that the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, and the room was beginning to lighten. Knowing it would be a couple more hours at least before the boys were up, Jayne leaned over and kissed Sherlock on the cheek before sliding out of bed carefully so as not to wake him.

She padded into the kitchen in bare feet, the floor a bit chilled. She pulled the items she needed for cinnamon rolls from the cupboard and refrigerator and went to work. She smiled, humming to herself as she remembered the Christmas tradition from her mother. She quickly made the dough, the same as the bread she'd made a few days before. While it rose, she mixed the cinnamon filling, stirring together brown sugar and cinnamon and mixing it with butter to form a paste so that it would spread easier on the dough when she'd rolled it out. She covered the cinnamon mixture with saran wrap and began on the cream cheese icing. It too was simple: cream cheese, a little milk, powdered sugar and vanilla.

She busied herself with doing dishes, cleaning as she went along, while she waited for the dough to finish rising. She opened the refrigerator and cupboard, replacing what she'd taken. She took out her cell phone and sent a quick text message to Mycroft, asking him to join them for breakfast at 8:30a.m. She turned on the oven to preheat and lightly buttered a rimmed baking sheet.

When the timer finally dinged, she pulled the dough out onto the counter she'd sprinkled with flour. She began rolling out the dough into a large rectangle and began to spread it with the cinnamon paste. She rolled it up length-wise and took a knife and began slicing the rolls out and placing them on the baking sheet. She slid them into the oven and smiled, setting the timer for thirty minutes.

She walked back to Sherlock's room, singing softly to herself. She smiled and sat on the bed next to him and leaned over, kissing him softly on the cheek. He grumbled and whipped out an arm, pulling her over him and then under him, and he began to kiss her deeply on the lips. Without opening his eyes, he put his lips against her ear, making her shiver, and growled simply, "That is how you kiss someone awake, woman."

She laughed. "I'll remember that for next time. Breakfast is almost ready. And you'll want to get dressed, Mycroft is coming for breakfast." He groaned and she grinned at him mischievously. "I asked him to come today so you wouldn't have to put up with him tomorrow." And with that, she kissed him again, making him finally open his eyes.

"You are a devious woman," he grinned at her.

She shrugged, a little hard to do considering he was still laying on top of her. "Christmas is for families. But I want tomorrow to be a day where you're happy and not having to put up with him. I don't like how he talks down to you, Sherlock. You've had trouble in the past, but you're much better now. He needs to accept it and move on. What you do, your detective work, fulfills you more than the drugs ever did. I see that in you." He'd flinched when she'd mentioned the drug use, but stared at her wide-eyed when she'd continued. Did she really see him like that?

She smiled and leaned up and kissed him. "Now be a good boy and put up with him for breakfast, you won't have to see him again for a while. And tonight you only have to put up with Molly, Greg and Mrs. Hudson. And you know they're much better company."

He groaned again and buried his face into her throat, kissing softly where her collarbone met her throat. "I can think of better things to do today. Let's just stay in bed," he cajoled, loving it when he watched her blush move from her throat all the way up her face. He peeked up at her and loved the burning of her cheeks, the tip of her nose and the edges of her ears.

She swallowed thickly. "As wonderful as that sounds, I have cinnamon rolls in the oven and I've already texted Mycroft to come for breakfast."

He sighed and stood up, making her blush even worse when she realized that for the first time, he didn't bother to wrap himself in a sheet when he got up. "Oh god!" She squeaked and fled the room quickly, hearing him laughing behind her as she shut the door. Still blushing, she made her way to the kitchen and splashed cool water on her face, drying it with a paper towel. _That man! _She thought and laughed to herself.

She started singing to herself to keep her mind off of that impressive view of Sherlock and wiped down the counter to remove the remains of the flour. She pulled eggs and bacon from the refrigerator and began to whip the eggs in a bowl. Just as she finished, she heard the doorbell ring. She smiled and opened the door to see Mycroft standing there, a rather large gift box in his hands. "Mycroft!" She grinned, welcoming him in. She took the box from him, placing it under the small Christmas tree she'd talked the boys into getting. She turned and hugged him, surprising him completely.

She stepped back and would have sworn she saw a slight blush on his cheeks. "Would you like a cup of coffee? Tea?" She asked.

"Tea would be quite nice," he said and sat down at the kitchen table. Jayne nodded and put the kettle on high to boil. The timer dinged and Jayne pulled the cinnamon rolls from the oven, then quickly and efficiently poured the icing over them and with a few flicks of her wrist had them frosted. "Those smell divine, Jayne." Mycroft said, eliciting an even bigger smile from Jayne.

"Thank you! It was a Christmas tradition in my home growing up. Every Christmas Eve morning, my mother made cinnamon rolls, scrambled eggs and bacon. So I thought it would be nice to continue the tradition." She said, as she poured the beaten eggs into a non stick skillet.

"Sounds good to me," came John's voice. Jayne turned to him and grinned. She gestured to the coffee pot, ready for him. He poured himself a mug of coffee and sat down at the table, yawning and still looking exhausted.

"Long night at work, John?" Jayne asked, stirring the eggs in skillet to keep them from making an omelet instead of scrambled eggs. She sprinkled them with salt and pepper as Sherlock strode into the room, for once not glaring at Mycroft. He peered over her shoulder and into the pan. Where Mycroft couldn't see, he placed his hand on her stomach pulling her back a little against him. Jayne tried to keep herself from blushing but couldn't, and was glad she had to fix the bacon still.

Sherlock took the kettle that had just begun to whistle and poured the tea into the cheerful looking yellow teapot that Jayne had found at a shop while out with Molly one day. He added tea to the pot and put the lid on to let it steep. He placed a cup on the table for him and one for Jayne and Mycroft.

Jayne began browning the bacon in another skillet, taking some of it out after just a few minutes, but leaving her own to get a little more crispy, placing it on a paper-towel line plate to let the bacon grease be absorbed. She placed the plate of bacon on the table, along with the platter of scrambled eggs. She placed two cinnamon rolls on each plate, passing them out, not realizing that once again, she served Sherlock first. She quickly bowed her head and said a soft prayer, thanking whoever was listening for her friends and for Sherlock, and hoping that wherever her parents and siblings were that they were safe and not worried about her. "Amen," she whispered. As she looked up, she noticed that they were all staring at her.

"Eat before it gets cold," she said softly. Nodding, they all tucked into the food, and Jayne smiled at the obvious enjoyment. She felt Sherlock's hand on her own under the table, and squeezed it gently. He might not understand her attachment to her family, since he wasn't close with his brother, but he understood that she felt that way and was sorry that he could not make it better for her. Breakfast was soon finished, and Jayne washed the dishes and put away the remaining cinnamon rolls for later.

Mycroft was gathering his coat to leave. "Mycroft, wait!" Jayne cried, running to grab his present from under the tree. She handed it to him and he looked surprised that anyone would think of him at Christmas. Smiling indulgently, he began to unwrap it and opened the box. Jayne heard him gasp and smiled.

"Jayne, this is lovely." He gave a true, real smile, one that reached his eyes. He walked over and gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek, making her blush for the hundredth time that morning alone. "Thank you, dear," he said and placed the lid back on the box, carrying it with him as he left. "Merry Christmas, all," he said as he began to walk down the stairs.

Jayne shouted after him, "Merry Christmas, Mycroft!" Sherlock came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him and leaning his chin on the top of her head. She smiled and sighed in contentment. Before leaning back to kiss his cheek. "Let go, Sherlock. I have lots to do before tonight. You'll play for us, right?' she asked, hope clear in her voice.

He sighed, clearly annoyed. "Very well." He gripped her tighter for a moment before releasing her and wandering over to his violin and began playing Christmas melodies. Jayne smiled at him and wandered into the kitchen to prepare batter for cookies, to put the turkey into brine for tomorrow and start rolling out dough for pies. The boys heard her humming along with Sherlock's violin and smiled, all of them satisfied for the time being.


	30. Chapter 30

**First of all if there are any mistakes in here, they're all on me. My poor beta has been working hard on school all week, and so I decided to post this before she had a chance to read it. Sorry Mel! Secondly, I have changed this up a bit, I did not include the embarrassing scene with Sherlock and Molly with the present. It makes me cringe every time, I feel so bad for Molly. I know it's where she finally gets a kiss, but I still feel so bad for her. *lol* Other than that, as usual, I hope you will all enjoy! :D **

**~J. **

* * *

Sherlock had to admit, for someone with a hidden sweet tooth, the flat smelled divine. Jayne had been busy all day in the kitchen, barely letting him kiss her, a fact which annoyed him for some reason he could not fathom. He'd gone his entire life without kissing anyone, why was it so different now? And was it a different he liked or disliked? He wasn't sure and he felt certain it was going to drive him insane.

He smiled in approval when Jayne finally came out of the bedroom they shared. She had dressed in charcoal-colored slacks and a sweater in a lovely hunter green over a white turtleneck. Her feet were encased in simple, comfortable black ballet flats in a shiny patent leather. He laughed to himself when he saw she was wearing socks in a red and white snowman print.

Jayne wandered over to the table she'd had John drag into the living room area to check it one last time. She'd covered it with a holly-printed tablecloth and it was filled with plates of frosted sugar cookies, colored-sugar sprinkled cookies, chocolate chip cookies, miniature mince pies, miniature pumpkin pies, a cherry-and-cream-filled Black Forest cake, a coconut cake-another tradition in her home-, and the blueberry turnovers John had asked for. In the kitchen, a pot of mulled wine was simmering on the stove and the slow cooker was filled with hot buttered rum.

The Christmas tree in the living room was blinking festively with colored lights, garlands were hung over the fire that was blazing merrily, and Jayne had even managed to talk Sherlock into wearing her favorite purple shirt under his jacket. She'd smiled and kissed him on the cheek as he grumbled about women's influence. She hadn't, unfortunately, been able to talk John out of wearing the sweater that his sister Harry had given him for Christmas. But, one battle at a time was enough, it had certainly been a battle to get Sherlock to at least act polite-as polite as he could be in a grumpy mood-when Mrs. Hudson and John's current girlfriend Jeanette had arrived.

Sherlock was currently playing violin for them, Jayne perched on the arm of his chair. Mrs. Hudson was sitting by the fire, John and Jeanette on the couch and Greg, who'd arrived a few moments ago, was getting himself a refill of wine. He and his wife were in custody talks over their children and Jayne's heart ached for Greg, she knew how much he was hurting. Just as Sherlock finished the song, Molly appeared at the door, bags of gifts in her hand. "Hello all! The door said to just come on up!" she said cheerfully.

"Molly!" Jayne cried out happily, hurrying over to her friend to help her with the bags. She set them down on the coffee table and hugged her. Greg helped Molly out of her coat and Jayne was shocked to see that Molly was once again wearing the dress she'd worn to Mycroft's party. She tried not to cringe, it really didn't suit Molly at all. Jayne certainly didn't miss the way Greg looked at Molly.

"How's the hip?" Molly asked Mrs. Hudson.

"Oh, it's atrocious, but thanks for asking," Mrs. Hudson said, with a smile still on her face.

"I've seen much worse. But then, I do post mortems," Molly joked.

Everyone went quite for a moment, except Jayne, who thought it was a bit funny. "Oh god, sorry." Molly exclaimed, blushing.

"Don't tell jokes, Molly," Sherlock ordered, earning him a frown from Jayne.

Jayne offered Molly a cookie, knowing that she would want to eat lightly before she had to go in for a late shift, and to alleviate some of the tension. Sherlock finished the tune he'd been playing and sat down at the desk. Jayne wandered over towards him, a small plate of cookies in his hand. Molly began talking to the others and overheard John say he was going to spend the day with his sister. "She's finally kicked the booze," he said.

"Nope!" Sherlock said, earning a light smack on the shoulder from Jayne and a "Shut up, Sherlock," from John. Jayne noticed that Sherlock was starting to get antsy, and _knew _that couldn't be a good thing. Jayne took his hand and pulled him to his feet, flipping the radio on to a Christmas music-playing station. She grinned as she began to sway in front of him, he rolled his eyes, but took her hands and began to dance with her.

He took the lead, waltzing her around the room and making her twirl, and she almost wished she'd worn a skirt so she could feel it swirl about her legs. As the song ended, Jayne gasped as Sherlock dipped her. Jayne heard John clear his throat and look upwards. Sure enough, Sherlock had somehow maneuvered them right under the sprig of mistletoe that Jayne had him hang since he was so tall. Jayne blushed deep red as Sherlock laughed and kissed her. She closed her eyes and enjoyed it, glad that he could show a little more of the Sherlock beneath the insane genius when they were alone with friends.

She blushed absolute crimson when there was applause. Sherlock stood them up and bowed, kissing her hand, with a twinkle in his eye of absolute mirth. She took him by surprise when she leaned up quickly and pecked him on the lips. There was a moan that left everyone jerking in surprise and Sherlock rolled his eyes. He knew that alert tone only too well. He didn't see the light go out of Jayne's eyes, but John and the others did when Sherlock reached for his phone.

Molly and Greg gave their goodbyes and hugs to Jayne, John and his girlfriend Jeanette, and Mrs. Hudson as Sherlock picked up a package from the mantle over the fire. "Excuse me," he said softly, and walked back toward his bedroom. Jayne, concerned, followed him, and knocked very softly on the door. She heard him say softly, "No, I mean you're going to find her dead."

"Sherlock? Is everything all right?" Jayne asked softly. And was deeply hurt when he stood and closed the door in her face. She stood there for a moment, staring at the door. She walked into the living room, and grabbed her coat.

"Jayne?" John asked, concerned.

She tried to keep the tears from falling, honestly, she did. "I'm going for a walk, John, I'll be back later," she said, her voice choking with tears. She pulled her coat on as she walked down the stairs and out into the night. She walked along the sidewalks, listening to the laughter and music from doorways open to the night as friends and families gathered. She felt the snow falling around her in large flakes, sticking to her hair, her coat, fluttering into her eyelashes as tears slid down her cheeks.

Back at the flat, Sherlock was annoyed and astonished when John came bursting into his room without so much as a by your leave. He looked at Sherlock with real anger in his eyes, which took Sherlock slightly aback. John grabbed the lapels of Sherlock's coat and shook him. "What did you do to Jayne!?" he shouted in Sherlock's face.

In that moment, Sherlock felt his heart sink.


	31. Chapter 31

**Ok folks, just a quick warning, this chapter contains a love scene. It's not extremely explicit, but if you're not comfortable reading it, please don't do so. The next chapter will pick up without needing to have this one be read to understand it. For those of you that do read it, as always, I hope you enjoy it. I will put a set of lines down where the love scene begins so that anyone can stop at that point and pick up again on the next chapter. Also, my beta did not get a chance to go over this chapter, she's been ill and I didn't want to bother her. So any mistakes are mine and mine alone! Many hugs to you all!**

**~J. **

**P.S.-The "dumbest smart person I know" line is a real one that was said to me by my sister. Hope it makes you laugh ;)**

* * *

Jayne wasn't sure exactly how long she walked. But finally, exhausted and cold, she returned to the apartment. When she came in, John and Mrs. Hudson were looking around the apartment for any signs of a secret stash of drugs of Sherlock's. John took one look at her and became concerned. Jayne shook her head, she didn't want to talk. She walked into the kitchen and took a small mug of the mulled wine from earlier to warm herself up from the inside out. She began putting everything away in plastic bags and wrapping the cakes and such in plastic wrap. She put the pot of mulled wine and the stoneware insert of the slow cooker in the refrigerator.

She took the mulled wine with her to the bedroom she'd been sharing with Sherlock. Suddenly, she couldn't bear the thought of staying in the room with him. She took the keys to her apartment and left, glad that the bedroom at least had a bed. She opened the package of sheets she'd bought and quickly made the bed with them, dragging the heavy matching quilt over it as well. She stripped down to her bra and panties and slid into the cold bed. It felt so empty without Sherlock in it, but she harshly clamped down on that thought and closed her eyes. It took her a while, but as exhausted as she was, she finally fell asleep.

Sometime during the night, she turned over and felt arms wrapped around her and found herself pressed up against a familiar chest. She opened her eyes to see Sherlock looking down at her, concern in his gaze. Though she knew she'd be angry with herself later, she leaned up, pressing her lips softly to his. She felt his hands slide through her hair, gripping it gently at the base of her neck and holding her in place against his lips. She felt him press himself closer, as he began to trail kisses down her throat. When he moved lower, to her chest, she moaned softly.

She felt his lips graze her nipples through the material of her lace bra. The strange combination of his lips and the material of her bra made her bite her lip with a gasp. And then she came to her senses. "Sherlock. Sherlock! Sherlock, no!" She said, pushing softly on his shoulders. He blinked and looked up at her with surprise.

Jayne pushed the blankets off and stood up. "I think you should leave, Sherlock," she said, shivering as she walked over to open the bedroom door.

"Why do you want me leave?" he asked, sitting gingerly on the bed, his erection painfully obvious. He looked confused; he knew he'd hurt her somehow, but wasn't entirely sure why she was upset. Emotions were the bane of his existence. He didn't understand them, and couldn't control them. They kept things from being rational. His own emotions, though they ran deeply, were carefully controlled. But he knew he did care about Jayne, and hated that he had somehow hurt him.

He stood and walked to her, for once letting his emotions taking over a bit more. He caressed her cheek with his long, thin fingers; he couldn't believer how soft her skin was. Jayne leaned into his caress a little, before her eyes flew open and she stepped back. "Don't do this, Sherlock. I love you, but I can't compete with a dead woman," she said, referring to Irene.

Sherlock blinked in revelation. And then a strange smiled flitted over his face. "You think I was in love with Irene Adler?" he asked with a small chuckle. He wrapped his arms around Jayne and pulled her tightly against him, one hand in her hair, as he began to kiss her fiercely. When he finally pulled back, they were both gasping for air.

Jayne let out a little scream when Sherlock suddenly slid an arm under her legs and lifted her into his arms. He moved slowly, carrying her to the bed and placing her gently on it. He climbed in right beside her, propping himself up on an elbow as he looked down at her. "Jayne, you are the dumbest smart person I know. You heard all the texts she sent, but I never once answered any of them. I never saw her after the day she injected me with that hallucinogen. Irene Alder is nothing to me, and you are ten times the woman she is." Sherlock caressed her face with his fingertips as he spoke, letting them glide softly over her cheeks, her lips, the brows that knitted with confusion over her brightly-shining eyes.

He'd never admit it, but the moonlight coming from a small window over the bed did amazing things to her skin. It glowed silver, her eyes dark pools. In the moonlight, he couldn't see her scar at her throat, the lines of weariness in her face. He leaned down and captured her lips with his again. This time, she moaned against his lips as his nimble fingers trailed down her arms, taking the strap of her bra with it. He slid his hands over her warm, creamy skin and murmured in appreciation when she leaned up a little, unsnapping her bra and removing it for him. He felt himself becoming impatient, tried to stop it, he didn't want to move to fast for her. But he couldn't stop himself as he devoured the lips beneath his.

* * *

He nearly grinned against those lips as he palmed her breast and he listened to her sharp intake of breath. She breathed his name in pleasure when he lowered his head, taking her nipple into his mouth. He felt her fingers snake into his hair as he began to lick and suck at her nipple while his clever fingers lightly pinched and slid over the other. When he set his teeth gently on the nipple she gasped out his name, arching off the bed. He began kissing down her stomach, his hands still massaging her breasts and nipples.

And then he was the one gasping her name when she pushed him back on the bed, straddling him and unbuttoning his shirt with her own quick fingers. She pushed it back off his shoulders, pulling it off of him and tossing it over her shoulder onto the bench at the foot of her bed. She leaned over him, her breasts pressing against his chest (and feeling quite good to him) as she began to press soft kisses over his face: his forehead, his eyebrows, his closed eyelids, each cheek, the tip of his nose, and his lips. He groaned in pleasure as she began to kiss down his throat and then gritted his teeth, whispering her name when she took his earlobe in her mouth and sucked and softly bit it.

He wrapped his hands around her hips, unconsciously grinding his erection against her as she continued her journey of kisses down his jaw, throat and collar. "Jayne!" he cried out harshly when she sucked at the point where his throat and collarbone met. His hands slid slowly up and down her sides as gazed up into his face; him watching her every move as she watched him. She kissed down his chest, blushing as she boldly licked at his flat nipple, smiling against his skin as his whole body stiffened under her. She still felt shy, she'd never done anything like this before, but his sounds of pleasure aroused her as much as she was sure hers aroused him.

She blushed as she asked him to stand and began to unbutton his slacks, knowing he was watching as her fingers fumbled with the buttons. When she finally had it unbuttoned, which had felt like it had taken forever, she helped him slide them down his long legs. His boxer-briefs were barely containing his erection, a fact that made Jayne's mouth go dry and her whole body seemed to burn in a blush. That blush only deepened as Sherlock's fingers hooked the edges of her panties and slowly dragged them down her own legs.

She bolstered her courage and did the same for him, hearing his groan as the back of one hand slid against the underside of his shaft as she pulled them off of him. She felt his hand grab her wrist, pulling her hand to his member and wrapping her hand around it. He moaned as he directed her hand to glide slowly up and down the shaft. Both of them breathing hard, Sherlock pulled her back down on the bed. He crawled over her, kissing her from ankle to lips. "Jayne?" he asked softly, unsure of her answer. He knew he wanted her, but did she want him just as much.

Unable to voice her consent, she nodded. He kissed her again and positioned himself at her entrance. Even knowing it would hurt, Jayne wasn't prepared. He stretched her inner walls around him even before he reached her barrier. Believing it was better to get it over with quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid, he kissed her hard and thrust quickly through it. He moaned as he was buried deep inside, though he'd felt her stiffen under him. He looked down and saw tears slipping from her eyes as she held herself stiffly under him in discomfort.

He covered her face in kisses, wiping away her tears. She looked up into his eyes and saw concern there, such an unusual look on Sherlock's face. Not wanting to make him worry, she leaned up and kissed him. He waited a few moments for her to adjust to him inside her. "All right?" he asked softly. At her nod, he buried his face into her neck and began to thrust, gently at first, but slowly beginning to move faster and deeper. His breath panted hard against the side of her neck, the sounds of his moans of pleasure interspersed with her own.

His thrusts became harder and faster. Jayne wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms wrapping themselves around him as well. She began feeling ripples of pleasure as Sherlock pumped himself inside her. As the pleasure built, she felt Sherlock's thrusts begin to come slower and his thumb slid to circle her clitoris. Within a few strokes of his thumb, she shattered, calling his name in gasps and climaxing hard around him and making him groan. As she spasmed beneath him, he began pumping harder and faster until he shouted her name and emptied himself in her. They lay there for a few heartbeats, both of them trying to catch their breath.

Sherlock kissed her before moving to her side so as not to continue crushing her. Truthfully, Jayne had rather enjoyed having his body pressed to hers. She merely sighed contentedly as Sherlock pulled her to her accustomed place in his arms and exhausted, fell asleep in his arms. Without another thought, Sherlock too was asleep, not realizing that he didn't release her throughout the night.


	32. Chapter 32

**Ok, everyone, wanted to get this up and posted for you all. My lovely beta hasn't had a chance to look this over yet, she's been really busy lately and I didn't want to ask her to add more to her load right now. So any mistakes are mine all mine! :P I hope you'll enjoy!**

**~J.**

* * *

Jayne woke slowly, as if her mind and body conspired to keep her in dreams. Dreams of her and Sherlock. But it couldn't last and her eyes opened to the brightness of late morning. Sherlock was staring back at her, those blue-gray-green eyes that were so startling peering at her as if they could see into the depths of her soul. Impulsively, she moved quickly and kissed him. He was astonished and enjoyed the blush that stained her cheeks at her own impetuosity. Feeling strangely sentimental, wholly unlike him, the thought, he placed his hand softly on her cheek and caressed it. And leaned forward and kissed her, letting his lips linger on hers.

Amazed by this display of affection, Jayne reveled in it while it lasted. She knew all too soon, Sherlock would revert to his usual self and be the slightly cold personality that she dearly loved and hated at the same time. _Why couldn't he be like this all time time? _she thought, and then chided herself. He wouldn't be Sherlock if he was different, and Jayne truly didn't want to change him. She just wished there was a little more of _**this **_sometimes. The cuddling and snuggling afterglow.

Sherlock finally released her lips and Jayne stretched languidly before slowly climbing out of bed, a blush gracing her cheeks as Sherlock did the same. Though to be honest, he seemed much less enthused to put clothes back on. But then again, the man did spend most of his time wrapped in a sheet. Jayne grinned at him as he got down on his hands and knees and reached under her dresser for a missing sock. She pulled on a clean sweater and her comfortable flannel pajama pants in a penguin print. Instead of her sneakers, she pulled on a pair of socks and a pair of ballet-style slippers in a bright pink leopard print that Molly had given her with a laugh. She knew that Jayne detested animal prints but would wear them because Molly had given them to her.

Jayne grabbed a large paper bag with handles that held gifts for Sherlock, John and Mrs. Hudson. Together, Jayne and Sherlock walked up the stairs to John and Sherlock's apartment. She noticed she was a little sore from last night's encounter, but vowed to take an aspirin or two and suck it up. When she stepped into the apartment, she smiled at John and Mrs. Hudson, both of whom were talking quietly in front of the fireplace. When they saw her enter with Sherlock, they realized they must have made up and smiled back.

"Who's ready for presents?" Jayne called out, laughing when John started forward like an eager child, arms out for a present.

She gleefully handed him a small box and he sat down on the couch to open it. He gasped when he saw the antique black leather doctor's bag. "Where did you find this, Jayne? My great-grandfather was a doctor and had one just like it!" He opened the bag and gaped in surprise when he saw the original Victorian doctor's tools still in their boxes. He jumped off the couch, strode over to Jayne and lifted her up in a hug, twirling her around in a circle. She laughed and shrieked, "Put me down!" He grinned at her. "It's perfect, Jayne, thank you so much." He went back to the couch and sat down, lovingly taking each still-sharp scalpel, bone saw, vial and needle from the bag to look at them.

Jayne watched for a moment longer before she turned to Mrs. Hudson. She took a much smaller box and walked to Mrs. Hudson, placing it in her hands. Mrs. Hudson's hands shook slightly as she opened the box and took in a sharp breath. Nestled in a bed of purple satin was a pair of sky-blue Wedgewood cameo earrings. "Jayne!" she breathed, "wherever did you find them!" Jayne blushed, knowing what Mrs. Hudson referred too. Weeks ago, Jayne had been helping Mrs. Hudson hang new draperies in her bedroom and had seen a lovely picture of Mrs. Hudson's Great-Aunt Mathilda at her first ball. Mathilda had been wearing a pair of lovely cameo earrings, which Mrs. Hudson had told her had been beautiful Wedgewood cameos that Mathilda had promised to leave to Mrs. Hudson. Unfortunately, upon Mathilda's death, Mrs. Hudson's cousin had taken them instead and they had been destroyed in a home fire years ago.

"Oh, Jayne!" Mrs. Hudson said, crying softly as she wrapped Jayne in a hug. Jayne bit her lip to keep from crying too, hugging Mrs. Hudson tightly. Mrs. Hudson patted her cheek gently. "Such a sweet girl." She turned to Sherlock with a motherly scowl on her face. "You need to keep this one, Sherlock. She's a sweet girl," she said, making Jayne blush bright red.

Sherlock merely raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk playing around the edges of his lips. Jayne went to get his present, and handed it to him, feeling very nervous. She dearly hoped he would like it. She sat stiffly on the arm of his chair and watched as he began opening the wrapping paper to find a large wooden box, shaped like a treasure chest. He glanced up at her, looking at her strangely. He opened the hasp on the chest and went speechless. Nestled inside the chest was a beautiful 19th century telescope of brass and rosewood, carved with a moon and stars in constellations.

Beside it in the box, in it's own little wooden box carved with a spouting whale, was a black tooled leather eye patch, inset with series of sapphires that formed an eye. In another wooden box, this one carved with a pirate ship, two beautiful silver-handled dueling pistols sat in all their glory. The handles were beautifully scrimshawed with leaves, flowers and vines. Jayne had even included a small powder horn filled with gunpowder and a small leather bag filled with lead bullets, and a small gunsmithing kit to create more if needed.

Sherlock carefully put the box on the couch beside him and strode to Jayne purposefully. "Do you like it?" she asked softly, peeking up at him. She squeaked when he yanked her against him and kissed her, right there in front of John and Mrs. Hudson, both of whom gaped at Sherlock. Jayne merely wrapped her arms around the back of Sherlock's neck, kissing him back with everything she had in her. Finally John cleared his throat, then coughed to get them to break apart.

Jayne stepped back, blushing when she realized John and Mrs. Hudson were still staring. But Sherlock broke the silence. "I'm afraid my gift is rather paltry compared to the generosity of yours," he said, handing her a small, wrapped box. Surprised that he had even thought to get her anything at all, she carefully opened the small package. She carefully pulled off the paper, not wanting to tear the beautiful (and most likely expensive!) blue paper. She bit her lip when she saw a jewelry box underneath the paper. she pried it open carefully and gasped in shocked amazement when she saw what lay inside. On a bed of deep blue satin was a pendant in the shape of a rose, created of swirling opals and amethysts set in platinum. "Sherlock! My god!" she whispered, sitting there just staring down at it.

She didn't see the smile that reached from Sherlock's lips all the way to his eyes. It wasn't often he was able to truly surprise Jayne to the core, but this simple gift had done it. She hadn't known that he'd watched her every time they'd passed a jewelry shop while she looked for Mrs. Hudson's gift. Her eyes had never once strayed to the expensive rubies, sapphires, emeralds and diamonds. Instead, they invariably wandered to the sections holding amethysts and more often, opals, her birthstone. He'd had a good friend create the beautiful rose of amethysts and opals, and even he'd been happily surprised at the results.

When she continued to sit there and stare at it, a fingertip running softly and lovingly over it, annoyance flashed through him. He stood and pulled the necklace from her fingers, startling her as he gently placed the pendant around her neck, fastening it against the soft skin at the back of her neck. He couldn't resist letting his fingertips brush against it, making her shiver. Jayne hopped off the couch and hurried to a mirror in the hallway, looking at how the necklace glowed against her skin.

Her smile was at full-voltage now and it nearly blinded Sherlock. This time it was Jayne who kissed him, pulling his face down to hers, causing Mrs. Hudson and John to laugh at Jayne, quite a bit shorter than Sherlock, pulling the taller man down for a kiss. She pulled back and smiled up at him. "Merry Christmas, Sherlock Holmes."

He smiled and kissed the tip of her nose, causing Mrs. Hudson to let out a soft "Awww." "Merry Christmas, Jayne." He sat in his chair and made Jayne gasp when he pulled her down into his lap. "Now, where's the rest of the presents?"


	33. So sorry, y'all!

So sorry, folks, but there's not going to be a new chapter this week. I have gout again, in my foot and my hand this time. It's making it incredibly hard to type. I promise to get the next chapter out as soon as I possilbly can!

~J.


	34. Chapter 33

**I just want to say a very heartfelt Thank You! to all of you for your wonderful Get Well Soon wishes. They meant tons to me and I'm sorry I couldn't write you all back. My gout is finally receded enough to where I can type again (Hallelujah!) and don't feel the need to wrap it in duct tape and hack it off with an axe! Yay!**

**Also, I'm celebrating today! My sister, who I haven't seen in a year, is visiting today! It was a complete and total surprise, LITERALLY! As in, we had no idea she was coming and when I opened the door I screamed when I saw it was her (and the brat has a picture to prove it!) I'm so thrilled she's here, plus she brought my nieces, one of which I just got to meet for the first time today, she just turned 4 months old last week! **

**So my darlings, here is the next chapter for you and I hope you are all having as wonderful a day as I am. **

**~J.**

* * *

"Jayne, there's one last gift here for you, from Mycroft," John said, pulling the box out from under the tree.

Jayne had completely forgotten about it, not even remembering that she herself had placed it under the tree the day before. It wasn't a particularly large box, but it was somewhat heavy. She unwrapped the pretty purple and silver-print paper, revealing a large white box with letters emblazoned across it. "I don't believe it!" she breathed. But, sure as could be, there it was. She pulled the box open reverently, revealing a large purple-topped laptop. Jayne squealed and hugged it to her chest, like a child with a teddy bear.

She opened her eyes to see John, Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock looking at her, all of them clearly amused by her outburst. "Shut it! I was telling Mycroft one day how much I missed my laptop from home. He already knew my favorite color was purple." She opened the laptop and turned it on, gasping in surprise at the background image: a picture of her and Sherlock at Mycroft's party, mid-tango. She smiled and looked at the clock, and seeing the time, she gathered together her presents and Sherlock's and carried them back to his room for now.

Jayne pulled her hair back into a braid, securing it tightly with a hair tie. She walked into the kitchen, turning on the radio to a Christmas station and put on a large black apron to keep her clothes clean for now. She took the defrosted turkey from the refrigerator and placed it in a large roasting pan, stuffing the cavity with half of an onion and some stalks of celery. She finished by rubbing the outside of the skin with butter and sprinkling it with salt and herbs before putting it into the oven.

While the turkey began to bake, Jayne took out the pie dough she'd prepared the day before (since it needed to rest for a long time so that it would be flaky) and began to roll it out. She pressed the dough into pie tins and filled one with apples, cinnamon, sugar and a touch of nutmeg. She topped the apple pie with strips of dough to form a lattice crust. The second pie crust, she placed a large piece of parchment paper in the bottom of it, pouring dry navy beans on top of it. She would blind-bake the crust (baking it without a filling) so that it would be cooked for the chocolate torte filling when it had cooled. She placed the pies in the oven with the turkey and closed it swiftly to keep as much heat in as possible.

While the pies and turkey baked, Jayne got to work on the sides. She peeled potatoes and cut them into chunks, leaving them to sit in cold water in the refrigerator until time to boil them for mashed potatoes. She minced and diced onions and celery for the stuffing, crumbling toasted bread for it and adding seasonings. She didn't realize while she was so busy that John and Sherlock were watching her from the living room, staring in amazement as she moved from "station" to "station" as she prepared and prepped each dish for it's turn on the stove or in the oven.

John's mouth started to water as he watched her preparing chocolate pudding from scratch on the stovetop for the chocolate torte she'd told them about. He had to admit it sounded delicious, a baked pie shell layered with chocolate pudding, cheesecake filling, more pudding and whipped cream. He was dying to try it, as well as all the other amazing things she was making that had the entire building smelling delicious. He heard his stomach growl and blushed when he saw that Jayne had heard it as well. She grinned at him and reached into the refrigerator, pulling out a platter that was filled with fruits: strawberries, banana chunks, kiwi slices, pineapple pieces, and grapes. In the center of the platter was a small bowl of white chocolate fruit dip. Taking a chance (after all, everything she'd made so far had been beyond his meager expectations), he dipped a strawberry into the dip and popped it gingerly into his mouth. His soft moan had Jayne smiling and hurrying back to the kitchen.

"Sherlock, you need to try this stuff...it's divine!" John whispered to Sherlock. Sherlock was busy trying to crack the password on Jayne's new laptop, she'd entered one when she'd taken it back to her room. So far none of the usual ones that most people used had worked, it wasn't her birthday (June 30th), her mother's name (Charlotte), her first pet (a cat named Cuddles), or her favorite book (Gone With the Wind). He knew better than to think it would be any of those, but he had to start logically with them. One of his favorite games was guessing John's password even though John changed it weekly. He was glad Jayne was giving him a bit more of a challenge.

A while later, a timer dinged in the kitchen and Jayne pulled the turkey out. It was pale gold, skin was beginning to crisp, it was ready for stuffing. She removed the onion half and celery stalks from the turkey; they'd served their purpose in flavoring the meat. Knowing the bird would be hot, Jayne used a large metal spoon to carefully stuff the bird with the bread mixture she'd prepared. She pushed the turkey back into the oven to roast for a little while longer to let the skin crisp and the stuffing absorb the turkey's juices.

A knock at the door signaled the arrival of Molly and Greg, who'd decided to come together. Jayne pulled off her apron and hurried to the door. She was immediately engulfed in a hug from Molly. "Happy Christmas!" Molly cried out as she hugged her friend. Smiling, Jayne hugged her back. "Merry Christmas, Molly!" Mrs. Hudson and John both called out "Happy Christmas" and Sherlock just grunted in greeting.

Molly followed Jayne into the kitchen while Greg stood talking with John, Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock. Well, mostly John and Mrs. Hudson, as Sherlock was still trying to break the code on Jayne's computer password. Molly sat at the kitchen table, watching as Jayne pulled the apron back on. She watched with a slight sense of awe as Jayne pulled the pies from the oven, placing them on a rack on the counter to cool. While the pies cooled, Jayne put the potatoes in a pot of cold water and brought them to a boil. She placed oven-proof bowls of corn, peas and green beans into the oven to heat. The timer dinged again, and Jayne pulled the turkey from the oven. She set it to rest on top of the stove, covering it with foil to rest before she carved it.

"Anything I can help with?" Molly asked hesitantly. She was fine with a blade when it was a scalpel and a body, but she wasn't sure she could attempt the food that Jayne was preparing. Jayne smiled at her and nodded.

"Can you check to see if the pie crust there is cool?" Jayne asked, nodding towards the pie shell she'd blind-baked. She'd removed the parchment and placed the beans she used in a glass jar to save for when she baked next. Molly put her hand in the bottom of the baked dough and found that it was still a little warm. She told Jayne and Jayne asked Molly to put the empty pie shell in the refrigerator so it would chill.

Molly did so as Jayne drained the potatoes and put them back into their pot, placing it on the flame again to dry them out a little. She added warmed milk and melted butter and mashed them quickly, adding salt and pepper at the last minute. Finally, she pulled the oven proof bowls of vegetables from the oven and placed them on top of the oven. She pulled the foil off of the turkey and smiled as the smell of baked turkey and stuffing filled the kitchen. She sliced the turkey breast in long, thin slices, piling them on a platter with slices of dark meat from the thighs. She placed the drumsticks beside the piled meat on the platter (she knew they were John's favorite) and added several large piles of the stuffing too.

"Be right back, Molly!" Jayne said, taking off the apron and hurrying to the bedroom. She opened her drawer in Sherlock's dresser and stripped quickly before pulling on a pair of black slacks and a black turtle-necked cashmere sweater (a gift from Molly) to showcase the necklace from Sherlock. She knew it was worthless to think of makeup, especially her favorite lip gloss, when it would be too easily removed while eating. She pulled a pair of simple silver hoops from a small jewelry box she'd bought for herself and slid them into her pierced ears.

She returned to the kitchen, checked the pie shell and it was finally cool enough. She placed the chocolate pudding, cheesecake filling and whipped cream into large ziploc bags and snipped the tips off of one side of each bag, using them to quickly pipe each layer on. She placed it back in the refrigerator to chill until time for dessert. Finally everything was ready and she called out for everyone. "Mrs. Hudson, John, Molly, Greg, Sherlock, it's ready!"

Each came trooping in, grabbed a plate and began making their way around the counters, piling their plates with what they liked before sitting down at the table. Jayne followed Sherlock around, making sure he actually put some food on his plate. They all sat around the small table in the kitchen making small talk as they ate. It wasn't long before the room was practically silent as they began to really tuck into the meal. John's eyes were intent on his plate as he slowly emptied it, and Jayne smiled as she watched everyone enjoying the food.

When they'd finished eating all of the dinner, Jayne quickly put it away and took out the chocolate torte and pulled vanilla ice cream from the freezer. She smiled as she made plates: A slice of the chocolate torte and a piece of the apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on the side. They all retreated to the living room to enjoy their pie. Jayne sat perched on the arm of Sherlock's chair as Mrs. Hudson, Molly and Greg took the couch and John sat in the other chair. Jayne grinned as she took a small piece of chocolate torte onto her fork and held it to Sherlock's lips.

He lifted a brow at her and looked annoyed, and she struggled not to laugh. Eventually he sighed and opened his mouth and Jayne placed the bite onto his tongue. She watched as he rolled it around his tongue a bit and then swallowed. He betrayed no emotion at first, then looked up at her. "I suppose it will be tolerable."

"Tolerable!" John choked out, giving Sherlock a look of complete and absolute shock. "This is bleeding brilliant, Sherlock. Are you mad?!"

Jayne saw Sherlock's eyes shining with mirth. "Beast!" she cried, smacking him lightly on the shoulder and making everyone laugh. He reached out and dabbed a bit of whipped cream on the tip of her nose. And then shocked everyone when he kissed it off, making Jayne blush brightly and Molly gape at them. Mrs. Hudson just chuckled.

There was a knock at the door. "Who's calling on Christmas day? How rude!" exclaimed Mrs. Hudson. Jayne smiled and walked to the door. She opened it to see a delivery man holding a package.

"Miss Jayne Wyler?" he asked. Jayne nodded, confused. She hadn't ordered anything. She signed for the package and shut the door as the man left. There was no card, so Jayne began to open the package. She opened a small box and gasped in surprise at the small teardrops of amethyst hanging from opal studs. A small card fluttered to the floor and Jayne picked it up and began to read. She had to read it twice to make sure she wasn't hallucinating. "Sh..sherlock!" she called.

Sherlock hurried over and took the card from her. Seeing how pale Jayne was, he wrapped and arm around her. The paper it was written on was of high quality, but simple. It was the words written therein that were the reason for Jayne's distress:

_Darling Jayne,_

_Thought these would suit you. Happy Christmas._

_XOXOX_

_~Jim Moriarty_


	35. Chapter 34

**Holy Cow, you guys! We're over 500 reviews! Thank you all so much! It really means the world to me when I get reviews from you all! I know this chapter's a bit shorter than my usual ones, but I have writer's block. But I didn't want to leave y'all without a chapter for the week when you made it such an amazing week with all the reviews, favorites and follows. Y'all Rock! Also, I'm sending this out without it having been beta'd (sorry, mel!) so any mistakes are my own. **

**~J. **

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The next few hours were spent with Sherlock pacing while John and Jayne just stared at the tiny box that sat on the coffee table. Greg and Molly had left almost an hour ago and Sherlock still hadn't uttered a single word. He had checked the earrings over. They weren't poisoned, they weren't bugged, they were simply what they appeared to be: a pair of lovely amethyst and opal earrings. Jayne knew that if they hadn't come from Jim Moriarty, she'd have been thrilled to wear them. Damn the man for ruining her first Christmas with Sherlock and John.

Jayne yawned, she'd been up since early and was exhausted. She stood, noticing that somehow John had dozed off in the chair. She shook his shoulder, waking him. His eyes snapped open and he looked around in bewilderment for a moment before realizing where he was. "What?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

Jayne smiled. "Go to bed, John." She kissed his forehead and headed into the kitchen, to make sure, again, that everything had been put away properly. Even though she'd done this twice already. She just needed something to do. She poured the stale coffee from the pot and rinsed the pot before pouring more water and coffee into the machine and set it to percolating. She gasped when she felt Sherlock's arms come around her from behind, pulling her back against him. She smiled and leaned her head back on his shoulder.

He buried his face in the side of her neck. "He's not going to hurt you, Jayne. I promise." he said gruffly. Jayne's lips lifted in a smile. She wrapped her arms up over her head and around his neck, kissing him.

"Never doubted that for a second, Sherlock. Though I have to admit, receiving a Christmas gift from a madman was entirely unexpected. You know, I'm almost afraid to give them away or anything. I'll never know if he's got someone watching me to make sure that I wear them." Jayne shuddered at the thought.

She noticed the coffee was finished, and took her arms from his neck to pour them each a cup. She added the sugar to his, then added enough cream and sugar to hers that it barely looked like coffee anymore. Sherlock looked at her oddly, he knew she didn't like coffee. She noticed his look, and simply commented, "I don't want to sleep yet, I'll have nightmares. So, caffeine." He nodded in understanding.

But even with the coffee, it wasn't long before her eyes were closing and staying closed for longer and longer and her head drooped to her chest. She jerked awake, only to do it again a few minutes later. Sighing, Sherlock stood, placed their mugs in the sink, and shook Jayne's shoulder gently. "Come on, love. Time for bed," he whispered, and helped her to her feet. They walked silently to Sherlock's room. She laid back, already asleep and he pulled her shoes off, tucking the blanket around her. He climbed in and, as seemed natural, pulled her against him and tucked the blankets better around them both.

The days passed in a blur, all of them expecting the other shoe to drop as far as Moriarty went. But nothing happened and it was soon New Year's Eve. Mrs. Hudson was kind enough to make breakfast, still unhappy that Sherlock didn't seem to be eating much. Jayne had noticed too, and was worried that no matter how much Sherlock had protested that he was, in some way, in love with Irene Adler. But she kept the destructive thought to herself and said nothing.

John was getting ready to go out, and was asking them about their plans. "I think it's going to just be a quiet night here, John. I'm not big on parties, and I know Sherlock detests being social," Jayne replied, teasing Sherlock. He snorted and stood to play his violin for a while. They heard John leaving, and Jayne stood and walked over to Sherlock. She watched him play for a few minutes before Sherlock's attention was caught by something at the window.

"What is it, Sherlock?" she asked softly, looking down at what he was seeing. She watched as John got into a black car, like the ones Mycroft traveled in. "What in the world?" But Sherlock was already up and moving, and returned only a moment or tow later, completely dressed. He tossed Jayne her coat and pulled his on. They raced down the stairs, following the car.

"It's not Mycroft, is it?" Jayne deduced quickly.

"No." Sherlock stated simply.

Jayne felt her heart clutch. Was Moriarty coming after her friends now? But she'd been sure she'd seen "Anthea" get into the car with John. She hurried to keep up with Sherlock, who seemed to be moving even faster than should be allowed with his long legs. They sprinted along, the car just ahead of them on the horizon, they followed each turn it took until it pulled up in front of an abandoned warehouse-type building. They hung back, watching as the car dropped off it's passengers, and then pulled away, taking Anthea with it.

They watched the car disappear, then slowly made their way towards the building. Jayne heard voices, one male and one female. She and Sherlock stood at the building's entrance and tried to listen. She gasped when Sherlock's phone suddenly released a long, loud moan. Irene's text-tone. Jayne ran forward, seeing John facing Irene, who was wide eyed and looking concerned.

"You bitch! He thought you were dead! He mourned for you!" Jayne screamed at her. Without thinking about it, Jayne reached out and slapped Irene as hard as she could, knocking the woman back. Jayne watched, satisfied as the woman's lip began to bleed, a trickle of blood seeping down from the corner of her mouth. She turned and ran after Sherlock.

She stopped and stepped back as she saw two large, burly-looking men coming out of 221B's doorway. She watched them get into their car and drive away. She ran tot he building, taking the steps as quietly as possible. The door was open a little and she watched as Sherlock yanked a spray bottle of cleaning solution and sprayed it into the eyes of a large man. Sherlock head butted the man Jayne recognized as the American from Adler's home and the American went down like a sack of bricks.

"Sherlock!" Jayne shrieked, pushing into the room. She saw Mrs. Hudson, bruised and bleeding. She threw herself into Sherlock's arms, then stared down at the downed American. "Did he hurt Mrs. Hudson?" she asked. Sherlock nodded. "Bastard!" she shouted and kicked the man in the gut. He let out a loud groan. Sherlock just stared at Jayne, who blushed. "Sorry." she said, "I get a bit protective sometimes."

He nodded. "Remind me to never get on your bad side," he grinned at her, before John came in and had Jayne help him take Mrs. Hudson downstairs. Jayne wanted to stay with Sherlock. "Go, Jayne. Help John, he'll need you." Jayne nodded and as she headed downstairs, she heard Sherlock put in a call to Greg Lestrade. She laughed when she heard him mention something about the American falling out of a window.

Later, when the ambulances were leaving, and Sherlock was talking with Greg, she walked to him and wrapped her arm around him, he returned the favor, wrapping his around her shoulders without thinking about it. As Lestrade and Sherlock continued to talk, no one noticed the man sitting in an apartment across the street snapping photographs of the couple.


	36. Chapter 35

**Hi everyone! Sorry for the delay, I have been god-awful sick all this week with some kind of summer flu/sinus infection crap that took me down. Fever finally broke on Friday (THANK YOU GOD!) and so I'm finally getting to where I don't feel shaky sitting up. As far as the chapter goes, it's a bit of filler, but my brain is fuzzy and doesn't want to work well and I didn't want to write something important and have it be awful. Also, my lovely beta, Mel, hasn't looked over this yet, so all mistakes are mine. Also, I've been getting lots of requests for the recipes for some of the food I write in my stories. I promise, I will post some of them, I just have to find my family recipe book so I can remember what the amounts were for them, I can usually remember them for the most part off the top of my head, but didn't want to try with my head like this. So next chapter will probably have the recipe for the Chocolate Torte from a chapter or so ago. I hope you are all enjoying your summer! Have a fabulous week!**

**~J. **

* * *

Jayne wasn't sure exactly what time she fell asleep. But she clearly remembered Sherlock telling her she needed to sleep. He followed her into the bedroom, tucked the blankets around her and kissed her forehead sweetly before the mask of indifference crept back into place. Jayne hazarded to guess he was thinking of how easily Mrs. Hudson could have been hurt, or even killed, simply because she knew him. Jayne wanted to punch the American for making that fear creep into Sherlock's heart and mind. But she was too tired and the bed was rather warm and comfortable and before she knew it, she was dead to the world and dreaming.

_The dreams were odd, glimpses of her past and her hopes for the future. She saw herself as a young girl being sent to Bible school, her parents waving at her as she boarded the big purple bus with Camp Peace and Love emblazoned on the side. Truthfully it looked more like a bus for a load of hippies than it did for a Bible camp. She'd made a few friends at Bible camp, but had lost them through the years. She remembered one girl, Zooey, who'd committed suicide when her parents told her being a lesbian was a sin against God. Jayne had been horrified. Her God was a loving God. He accepted everyone for their flaws and their love of him. _

_Next, she was sitting in a rocking chair, overlooking the magnificent lights of London, snow falling at the windows, a baby girl in her arms and Sherlock peering over at them as he looked up every few minutes from his laptop. The baby began to coo and squeal, making Sherlock chuckle as he stood, coming to stand next to Jayne. He placed one hand on Jayne's shoulder and the other under the baby's chin, laughing when she squealed again and reached for him. _

_A picnic she and her parents had gone on for her birthday in October during a trip to see her grandmother in Virginia. The day had started out unseasonably warm, and they'd gone out in shorts and tshirts. It had begun to snow halfway through the picnic. No rain, just fast, quickly accumulating snow. By the time they'd managed to run back to their car, the ground was white and slippery and they had laughed and squealed as they slipped and slid in the snow. Jayne had screamed with laughter and surprise when her father had scooped enough snow up from the ground and dropped it down the back of her shirt. She'd been fourteen at the time._

_The baby girl was now about four and it was her birthday. She was wearing a beautiful white eyelet dress with a baby-blue satin ribbon at the waist tied in a big bow, white patent leather mary janes on her feet. . John and his wife was there, with their little boy Hamish. Hamish and Emma, Jayne' and Sherlock's daughter, were chasing each other around the room. Mrs. Hudson snatched Emma up for a kiss and a hug before setting her back down. Molly and Greg were there, Molly's engagement ring flashing at her hand and Greg placing his hand gently over Molly's stomach and they looked at each other with love in their eyes at what they thought was their secret. It made Jayne grin, they were so obvious. _

_The doorbell rang and Emma ran to open it, Jayne hurrying behind her. The door opened to reveal Jim Moriarty, a smirk on his face and a gun, complete with silencer, in his hands. Jayne screamed and grabbed Emma, turning to run. Silenced gunshots made little noise, but a soft "pumph" as they hit their intended targets. Jayne watched horrified as John went down trying to protect his family. His wife and Hamish were next, as Jayne screamed out. Greg tried to protect Molly, and they both went down. Sherlock was trying to fight Jim and he went down. She watched as Moriarty started towards her, his eyes lit up like a child's with happiness. "Hello there, pretty." he said in a sing-song, walking towards Emma. "EMMA, RUN!" Jayne screamed at her daughter, pushing her towards the door. Jim kept stalking towards her and Jayne ran at him, he slapped her hard, knocking her to the ground before shooting her in the stomach. It was a wound that wouldn't kill her immediately. She heard her daughter screaming for her. "Emma!' she could only whisper._

Jayne jerked away, screaming and crying. Sherlock ran into the room and pulled her into his arms. "Jayne! Jayne, what's wrong!?" he shouted at her, shaking her. Her eyes were blank, as if she were still half in her dreams, tears streaming from her eyes and a look of loss about her. He reached out and stroked the side of her face. "Jayne?" he said softly. Her eyes went wide and she seemed to really wake up again, and looked at him, finally seeing him.

"Oh! Oh, Sherlock, it was awful!" she cried and buried her face into his neck, sobbing again as he held her. She told him about the dream, between sobs. He listened and comforted as well as he could, though he admitted to himself he was unused to the role of comforter and a bit uncomfortable about it. When she told him of the child, he felt his heart jerk sideways in a strange way. Sherlock had never though of having children. They were loud, messy and asked incessant questions once they hit the age range of being able to talk.

_But when she told him of Moriarty and the murders, Sherlock felt himself growing angry. His hands turned to fists, even wrapped around Jayne. While he seriously doubted that there would ever be a child between him and Jayne, he was dreadfully certain that dear Jim was never, ever, going to lay a hand on what was his. He soothed Jayne as best he could, and finally was able to get her to go back to sleep by crawling into the bed with her and holding her until her breathing deepened and her body relaxed. _

_He studied her while she slept, taking in every detail of her face. From her full lips, slightly almond-shaped eyes, the way her eyelashes curled up at their tips, to the soft wing shape of her eyebrows. Everything that made Jayne's face Jayne's. It certainly wasn't what made her Jayne, of course. He knew that. No, what made Jayne, well, Jayne, was what was inside that beautifully bright mind of hers and her deeply giving, loving heart. He was amazed at how she'd adopted all of them, as if she had known them all her entire life, instead of less than a year. _

_He had most certainly never expected her to be as brave as she was, most people went to pieces when confronted by kidnapping, guns, bombs, threats and danger. Jayne had held it together and found ways to be helpful. She was also fiercely loyal and protective. He grinned when he thought about her kicking the big American for hurting her beloved Mrs. Hudson. Still smiling, he yawned and closed his eyes. His weary body dragged him down into sleep before his mind could begin to entertain more thoughts about his Jayne._

_Mid-morning sunlight peeked through the curtains when Jayne woke. Her heart still felt heavy from the horrible dream the night before. But she pulled herself out of bed and stood under the hot water of the shower spray until she felt more awake. She pulled on a clean t-shirt and jeans, left her feet bare, and braided her hair back. She padded into the living room. Sherlock was sitting in his chair, his fingers steepled under his chin, obviously in his mind palace. Jayne kissed him softly on the cheek and walked into the kitchen. She found John there, a mug of coffee in his hands. His eyes were bleary and he looked hung over. _

_"Didn't sleep well either, huh?" she asked softly, trying not to aggravate his headache._

_He didn't glare, just stared into his coffee. "Can't believe he had that bloody thing here. Mrs. Hudson could have been killed, does he understand that?" he huffed._

_Jayne bit her lip and placed her hand on John's shoulder. "Of course he knows, John. He probably never thought that he would have to use that plan, but he had it planned in case he did. Do you not know how much he loves Mrs. Hudson? And how much she loves him? He'd be crushed if something happened to her, she's like a second mother to Sherlock. He helped her get rid of an abusive, murderous husband, remember? If you'd seen the sheer fury in his eyes when he took down that American, you'd have no doubt how much he adores that woman. But John, he tries to think of every angle, every possible angle, that someone around him could be hurt. And he tries to protect us. Not always in the way some of us think he should, but in the only way he knows how. By being cleverer than his enemies."_

_Leaving John to mull over her words, Jayne headed to the stove and turned the burner on, pulled a skillet over it to heat. She pulled thick slices of ham, a container of eggs and leftover baked potatoes. "Hungry, John?" she asked softly. _

_"Starving. Drank bit too much last night, nausea's finally gone though. Now I feel like my stomach thinks my throat's been cut." he grinned at her._

_She laughed and oiled the skillet lightly. She cubed the already-baked potatoes and slid them into the hot oil, sending them popping and splattering as they crisped on the outside. John went to take a quick shower while Jayne finished up breakfast. She sprinkled salt on the hash browns she was frying and used a paring knife to cut off the hard ring of fat around the ham steaks. She cracked eggs into a bowl, whisking them, as she knew Sherlock wasn't so fond of fried eggs. When the potatoes were crisp-fried, she scooped them from the pan, laying them on a plate with a layer of paper towels to keep them from being too greasy. She slid in the ham steaks, frying them to a delicious-smelling golden-brown. She removed them to a baking pan in the oven to keep them warm on the lowest heat setting. _

_Finally she poured the eggs into a clean, nonstick skillet, using a silicone spatula to stir them around and keep them from sticking. Just as John walked in, hair still damp, the eggs were ready. "Perfect timing," she said, scooping the eggs onto three plates. She pulled the ham from the oven, serving them onto the plates and finally the hash browns onto the plates as well. "Sherlock, breakfast is ready!" she called to him. She heard the sounds of him locking and shutting his laptop and he appeared in the doorway. She handed him his plate and he surprised her with a kiss on the cheek before sitting down. Still blushing, Jayne sat at the table with the boys. _

"_So," she said, taking her first bite and swallowing, smiling when it was just as good as she'd hoped. "What mischief are we managing today?" _


	37. Chapter 36

**Hello everyone! I hope you're all enjoying your summer! Sorry I haven't posted in a bit, I've been dreadfully sick, got better, and then got sick again with the same crap as before. *sigh* Also, FF.N for some reason doesn't want to let me open my private messaging, so I haven't been able to send this to my beta, so all mistakes are mine. Sorry if you spot any. Without further ado, here's chapter 36!**

**~J.**

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As spring finally arrived, and the snow had melted and the sun began to warm London, Jayne and Sherlock arrived home from shopping. Jayne was humming to herself as she looked up the stairs and saw Sherlock sniffing the air. "Sherlock?" Jayne asked quietly. She followed him, noting that a window that hadn't been open previously, was open to it's fullest point. She frowned at it and followed Sherlock, still clutching the groceries in their bag. Jayne heard John's footsteps coming up the stairs as well.

Sherlock kept moving towards the open door of his bedroom, Jayne following behind him still. She gasped when she entered the room. "Hey Sherlock," John began, before Sherlock cut him off.

"We have a client," Sherlock said, looking past Jayne to John.

"What, in your bedroom?" John said, coming up behind Jayne. "Oh."

There, in Sherlock's bed, lay Irene Adler. She looked peaceful, almost angelic in sleep. As though the weight of everything bad, wrong thing she had ever done, was released. She didn't have to hold herself to the "bad girl" image she held while awake. She looked, Jayne thought, almost vulnerable.

A short while later, showered and dressed in Sherlock's dressing gown, Irene sat impatiently on a chair, John and Jayne sitting by the desk, Sherlock sitting on a chair watching Irene's every move. A fact that Jayne desperately tried to ignore.

"So who's after you?" Sherlock began the first question.

"People who want to kill me," Irene answered, a little smile gracing her lips.

"Who's that?" Sherlock questioned.

"Killers," Irene replied, her smile growing.

"It would help if you were a tiny bit more specific," John said.

"So you faked your own death in order to get ahead of them," Sherlock stated.

"It worked for a while," Irene said, her smile dimming a bit.

"Except you let John know you were alive and therefore, me," Sherlock said

"And me," Jayne said softly.

"I knew you'd keep my secret," Irene said, staring into Sherlock's eyes.

"You couldn't," Sherlock answered.

"But you did, didn't you?" Irene said, smiling again when Sherlock didn't answer. "Where's my camera-phone?"

"It's not here, we're not stupid," John said, taking a sip of his tea.

"Then what have you done with it? If they've guessed you've got it, they'll be watching you," Irene stated.

"If they've been watching me, they'll know I took a safety deposit box on the Strand a few months ago," Sherlock's statement was stiff, he wasn't enjoying this, Jayne thought.

"I need it," Irene insisted.

"Well we can't just go and get it, can we?" John thought for a moment and threw out a rather long, complicated plan that involved Sherlock's homeless network and Molly. Jayne raised a brow at using her best friend on a dangerous mission. _And it was dangerous_, Jayne thought, _as those American CIA's had shown._

"Very good, John. Excellent plan, full of intelligent precautions." Sherlock said it in a way that made Jayne smile. She knew he though John's plan was ridiculous.

"Thank you. So why don't I-Oh for.." John huffed as Sherlock pulled Irene's phone from his pocket.

Jayne gripped the arm of her chair tightly, her knuckles white as she glared at that phone. Of all the stupid places to keep it!

Sherlock, John and Irene got into a argumentative conversation about what Irene kept on her phone. John kept insisting it was for blackmail, Irene insisting just the same that it was for protection. After all, she's spent most of her life "misbehaving" as she put it.

Jayne was absolutely shocked when Sherlock turned the phone over to Irene. "Show me," he said. And they watched as she entered the number to unlock it. But it buzzed. "It's not working," Irene said, looking annoyed.

"No, because it's a duplicate I had made into which you've just entered the numbers 1058. I assumed you'd use something more specific than that, but uh, thanks anyway." Sherlock said, grabbing the real phone and entering the number. Only Jayne saw that Irene wasn't furious, in fact, she almost seemed to be...laughing. _Damn, Jayne thought. _

_Sherlock looked rather baffled when the correct phone buzzed at the incorrectly entered passcode. Irene smiled and spoke, "I told you that phone was my life. I know when it's in my hand." _

_"Oh, you're rather good." Sherlock said._

_"You're not so bad," Irene flirted back at him, and Jayne rolled her eyes and slouched down into her seat. She saw John's look of concern, but said nothing._

_Irene began to explain about an MOD man who she knew what he liked. (Jayne shuddered at the thought of that.) She went on to explain that while he was otherwise occupied, she had taken pictures of an email he'd said would save the world. He hadn't known she'd photographed it, of course. She showed it to Sherlock. "I had one of the best cryptographers in the world take a look at it, though he was mostly upside down, as I recall." Jayne shuddered again, unhappy with this rather distasteful conversation and how Irene flaunted it._

_"What can you do, Mr. Holmes? Go on, impress a girl," Irene said, leaning over Sherlock's back._

_"Sherlock," Jayne whispered. She had a feeling that breaking this code was a very, very bad idea, all of a sudden. But Sherlock was intensely focused on his task and paid her no attention. Within seconds, he had an answer. _

_"There's a margin for error, but I'm pretty sure there's a 747 leaving Heathrow tomorrow at 6:30 in the evening for Baltimore. Apparently it's going to save the world, I'm not sure how that could be true, but give me a minute, I've only been on the case for eight seconds." Sherlock answered._

_John and Irene looked at him in shock, Jayne just closed her eyes and sighed. _

_"Come on, it's not code. These are seat allocations on a passenger jet." he said and started to explain common seating arrangements on airplanes and why he believed that the jet was leaving from Heathrow. "Please don't feel obliged to tell me that was remarkable or amazing John's expressed that thought in every possible variant of the English language." _

_"I would have you right here, on this desk, until you begged for mercy. Twice." Irene said. _

_Sherlock was speechless and that was the last straw for Jayne. She shot out of the chair and out the door, down to her own apartment, slamming the door behind her. She didn't see Sherlock's eyes following her, Irene's malicious smirk, or John's look of sorrow. _


	38. Chapter 37

**Ok folks, here's the next chapter, I hope you enjoy it! Note that I made up a name for the black gentleman who was sent to fetch Sherlock in the show. I never saw if he actually had a name in the credits, so I elected to call him Mr. Reynolds. Also, this chapter is completely unbeta'd. My usual lovely beta, Mel, has been quite busy of late, so I hope there's no major mistakes that I didn't catch. And now, on to the chapter. **

**~J.**

**P.S.-Have to thank one of my wonderful reviewers for pointing out that Jayne does indeed have to take her thyroid meds every day (just like I do in real life!) and so would need to be seen and checked up on by her doctor and have her prescription refilled. Thank you for the reminder!**

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Jayne lay curled up in the middle of her bed, her face buried into her pillow. She was desperately trying not to cry. If she'd been a witch like in the Harry Potter books she enjoyed, she'd have gladly hexed the hell out of Irene Adler, and then out of Sherlock for being an idiot. There was just something about the way Irene had looked that had given Jayne a feeling of danger. She KNEW something was not right.

There was a knock at her door. Jayne sat up and wiped away a stray tear that had fallen. She checked herself in the mirror before going to open the door. "Yes?" She asked, surprised to see a tall black gentleman standing there. It took her a few seconds, but she recognized him from the day he'd collected her and Sherlock for the trip to Buckingham Palace. The day that Sherlock had met the entirely despicable Irene Adler. Her guts burned just thinking about it.

"Miss Wyler, I'm afraid I need you to come with us," he said politely, but there was no mistaking the fact that it was clearly not a request. Jayne sighed and nodded.

"One moment," she replied and went to grab her most comfortable shoes. If she was going to be stuck riding around with a bunch of Mycroft's people, she was going to be comfortable. "Lead the way, oh fearless leader," she said, making the man smile. She grinned at him, and followed him out to the car. She wasn't surprised to see Sherlock there. He looked as if he wanted to speak to her, but she stared straight ahead and ignored him.

"Jayne?" he said softly, but she shook her head at him. She was not going to discuss this with him here and now. They rode in silence until they pulled up to an airport and a large passenger jet. Confused, Jayne merely stared up at it as they exited the car. She watched Sherlock as he spoke to the American. Jayne wanted to growl and throw something at the bastard. But Sherlock got a strange look on his face as he spoke with the man and then hurried up the stairs.

Jayne turned to the man who'd brought them. "What the hell is going on?" She asked him.

He sighed and turned to Jayne. "I'm afraid all I can tell you is Mr. Brilliant over there is in big, big trouble." He went to continue to speak when another car drove up and an impeccably dressed Irene Adler got out and walked up the stairs into the jet as well. Jayne turned to the man, whose name she had learned was Reynolds.

"Give me your gun," Jayne said.

He looked at her in surprise, saw the fury on her face and laughed. "Trouble in paradise or something?" he asked, still smiling at her.

Jayne grimaced. "Or something. And her name happens to be Irene Adler," Jayne mumbled.

"Bad luck, honey. That woman is vicious."

"Tell me something I haven't already figured out, Reynolds!" Jayne spat at him. He stared at her for a moment.

"Do you really want my gun? I don't carry it on me, of course, but I have it in my trunk if you really think you'll need it."

Jayne sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. "No, if push comes to shove, I'll just knock her the hell out and be done with it. Maybe I'll even break her nose," Jayne said, grinning at the rather bloodthirsty thought.

A short while later, Mycroft, Sherlock and Irene exited the plane and made their way towards the cars. Jayne got back in and waited for Sherlock and Mycroft. Mycroft greeted her with a stiff nod and half-smile. Sherlock looked rather stunned. She placed a hand on his arm before she remembered she was mad at him. She withdrew her hand and both Sherlock and Mycroft stared at her.

More to make polite conversation than anything else, Mycroft asked Jayne, "Jayne, dear, isn't it time for another check up for your thyroid issue?"

Jayne slumped into the chair. "Yes, I need to have my prescription renewed and everything. Not looking forward to it. I hate having my blood drawn."

Sherlock looked surprised. "I thought you said you were used to it by now?"

She glared at him. "Used to it and liking having it done are two completely different things, Sherlock Holmes."

He stiffened a bit, it had been a while since she'd used his name against him like that. But he saw the flash of hurt in her eyes. It made his chest, his heart, ache.

Jayne looked at Mycroft and realized there was something odd...something she'd never seen in his eyes before. Mycroft Holmes was afraid. And Jayne was pretty sure she knew exactly who'd put that fear there. Angrier than she'd ever been in her life, she growled out, "What did that utter bitch do now!?"

Mycroft shuddered and told Jayne what Irene Adler had done, and how now everyone was pretty much in danger because of her. The minute they arrived at Mycroft's home, Jayne jumped from the car and started pacing and raving quietly about how evil and despicable Irene Adler was. Mycroft was rather amused, but also a bit worried about Jayne. He'd seen the hurt in her eyes when she looked at Sherlock and the way both of them were acting so stiffly around each other. He stared at his younger brother; what had the brilliant idiot done now?

When Irene arrived in her own car, Mycroft showed everyone to his study. He tried to persuade Irene to see that there was some way to get the information off of the phone. Sherlock's knowledge of the phone stated otherwise. Jayne sat in the chair and stared at the flames as she listened to them chat back and forth. There Irene laid out her terms. "I'd say it wouldn't blow much of a hole in the wealth of a nation, but then I'd be lying."

Jayne ground her teeth. She wanted to get up and punch Irene so badly that it felt like it pulsed through her veins.

Mycroft took the paper and looked at it, his eyes widening in shock. "I imagine you'd like to sleep on it?" Irene asked.

"Thank you, yes." Mycroft said, still staring at the paper.

"Too bad." Sherlock scoffed. "Off you pop and talk to people," Irene said with a little smile. Jayne gripped the arms of the chair, holding herself there. She was afraid if she stood and started pacing again, it wouldn't take long before she paced herself right over to Irene Adler and planted her fist in the woman's face.

Suddenly Irene brought the fact that Jim Moriarty had played a rather large part in all of this. "I had all this stuff, never knew what to do with it. Thank God for the consultant criminal," Irene said, laughing lightly.

Jayne had seen Sherlock's face when Irene mentioned Moriarty. "Ooooh shit." Jayne whispered under her breath. With every smart remark Irene made, Sherlock's face became more and more...blank.

"Do you know what he calls you?" Irene teased. "The Ice Man. And The Virgin."

Jayne nearly choked at that. She knew quite well _that wasn't true anymore. _

_"Didn't even ask for anything, I think he just likes to cause trouble. Now that's my kind of man," Irene said, sitting on the edge of Mycroft's enormous table. _

_"And here you are, the dominatrix who brought a nation to it's knees," Mycroft said, with just a hint of desperation and respect. "Nicely played."_

_"No." Sherlock said._

_That caught everyone's attention. _

_"Sorry?" Irene asked, certain she'd misheard._

_"I said no. Very, very close, but no. You got carried away. The game was too elaborate, you were enjoying yourself too much," Sherlock said, standing and staring at Irene._

_"There's no such thing as too much," Irene said, smirking._

_"Oh, enjoying the thrill of the chase is fine. Craving the distraction of the game, I sympathize entirely, but sentiment? Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side."_

_"Sentiment?" Irene scoffed. "What are you talking about?"_

_"You." Sherlock said succinctly._

_"Oh dear God." Irene said with a rather surprised look on her face. It annoyed Jayne to no end. "Look at the poor man. You don't actually think I was interested in you? Why, because you're the great Sherlock Holmes, the clever detective in the funny hat?"_

_"No." Sherlock said quietly, reaching out to take Irene's wrist. He leaned forward and whispered into her ear, just loud enough for Mycroft and Jayne to hear. "Because I took your pulse. Elevated. Pupils dilated." Sherlock continued, as he picked up Irene's phone. _

_"I imagine John Watson think's love is a mystery to me, but the chemistry is incredibly simple and destructive." he said, not knowing how his words burned through Jayne's heart as well as Irene's. "When we first met, you told me that disguise is always a self-portrait. How true of you, the combination to your safe-your measurements. But this, this is far more intimate. This is your heart. And you should never let it rule your head." _

_He began typing in a code. "You could have chosen any random number and walked out of here today with everything you've worked for. But you just couldn't resist it, could you? I've always assumed love is a dangerous disadvantage. Thank you for the final proof." he said coldly. Jayne felt herself go numb in the name of self-preservation._

_"Everything I said, it's not real," Irene whispered desperately. "I was just playing the game."_

_"I know," Sherlock said, his eyes still cold. "And this is just losing." He typed in the final letter and revealed it to Irene and Mycroft. "I am SHER locked." it read. He pressed the enter button and the screen cleared, revealing the phone's main screen, complete with data files. Jayne watched as a tear streaked down Irene's cheek._

_"There you are brother. I hope the contents make up for any inconvenience I may have caused you tonight." Sherlock said, handing the phone to Mycroft. _

_"I'm certain they will," Mycroft said, looking over the phone._

_"If you're feeling kind, lock her up. Otherwise let her go. I doubt she'll survive long without her 'protection.'" Sherlock said, walking from the room, his eyes straight ahead, not daring to look at Jayne. _

_"Are you expecting me to beg?" Irene demanded._

_"Yes." Sherlock replied, stopping just before the doorway._

_"Please." Irene asked. "You're right." Sherlock turned to stare at her. "I won't even last six months."_

_"I'm sorry about dinner." Sherlock said, as he turned and left, leaving a crying Irene, and a stunned Jayne behind. Mycroft looked at Jayne sadly. _

_Jayne waited patiently while Mycroft made arrangements for Irene for the night. She hugged him goodnight as he sent her home in one of his cars. Jayne entered her own apartment, her guts churning as she remembered Sherlock's cold words and colder eyes. She sniffed and tears began to flood her vison, slipping past her lashes. She sat on the floor, her back against the apartment door, and cried. _


	39. Chapter 38

Knock, knock, knock. Jayne lifted her head from the pillow and looked at the clock by her bed. 9a.m. Sometime in the early hours of the morning, she had moved to her bedroom to finish crying and had apparently fallen asleep sometime during the tears. Grumbling to herself, she wrapped a robe around herself and made her way to the front door of her apartment. She opened it wide and stared. Sherlock stood there, waiting for her to step back and let him in.

He had the nerve to smile at her. And stood there in shock when she slammed the door in his face. He blinked and looked at the door before knocking again. He heard the lock _snick _into place. Sherlock sighed and walked upstairs to the apartment he shared with John. John turned to look at him, and couldn't stop himself from smirking. "Went that well did it?"

Sherlock glared at him and walked into the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator door and felt his heart lurch, Jayne had left containers of food marked with either his or John's names. When he opened one, he saw it contained a steak sandwich, his favorite. He pried the lid off of one marked with John's name and saw that it too contained a steak sandwich, spread with a thick layer of mustard and slices of onion, the way John preferred it. He clamped the lids back on the containers and looked through the rest of them. Time after time, they were matched, each of their favorites.

He replaced them and hurried back downstairs, pounding on Jayne's door. She ripped the door open, glaring at him as she stood there half-dressed in a pair of jeans and her pajama top. "Jayne-" he began before she slammed the door in his face yet again. The force of the slam surprised him and he stepped back. He heard the _snick _of the lock and the glide of the chain-lock on the door. Slightly dazed, he made his way back upstairs and plopped down on the couch.

John looked up from his blog. "Trouble in paradise?" he asked glibly.

Sherlock turned the full force of his glare on John. John just smirked again. "Well what did you expect, Sherlock? You basically told her that love is worthless. That what she feels about you is worthless and that what you felt about her is a lie due to chemistry." he explained.

"I-I" Sherlock tried to explain.

"You are an idiot." John said succinctly. He stood and grabbed his coat. "I'm going out, I'll be back later. By the way, Sherlock?" he said as he walked out the door.

Sherlock turned to him.

"You might want to think about how to apologize to Jayne. Before you lose the best thing you've ever had," John said, shutting the door behind him.

Sherlock leapt from the couch and began pacing, his mind swirling with thoughts, each one more disastrous than the one before it. God, what had he done? He'd only meant to show that Woman that he was immune to her supposed charms. He hadn't meant to hurt or insult Jayne, make her doubt what he felt for her. But he'd managed to screw it up anyways. It seemed like he always did. He wasn't good with people. He never had been. He sighed and grabbed his coat, leaving the apartment and wandering the streets while he thought.

Meanwhile, Jayne too, was thinking. She had tried not to be so upset about Sherlock's words. But they'd wreaked havoc on her heart. Everything had been going so well, and then that Woman had to interfere. Jayne wasn't perfect. Far from it. She'd always been a peacemaker, always enjoyed helping people. But she could also be bossy, hold a grudge and had a hellacious temper.

She remembered only too well when she and her sister had gotten into a fight in their teens. It had reached a point where they'd literally been rolling around on the ground punching, hitting, slapping, biting at each other. It had ended when her sister had thrown a glass jar of mustard at her (it had shattered on the wall behind her) and Jayne had grabbed a frying pan and thrown it at her sister. Luckily it had hit the door frame above her sister's head and her sister had had plenty of time to get out of the way, but she still remembered that the pan had ended up in a crescent-moon shape from the force of hitting the wall.

The fact that she had gotten that mad had scared the hell out of her, and Jayne had sworn to herself that she'd never let herself ever get that mad again. Her peacemaker tendencies had come out in full force on that day and she'd begun to keep a close eye on her own temper. When she felt herself getting worked up, she put that energy to good use: cleaning, organizing, cooking. She and her sister had never had a fight that bad again.

Jayne grabbed her coat and peered out of the doorway, sighing in relief when she saw no sign of Sherlock. She'd heard the doors slam, but wasn't sure if only one or both of the boys had left. She drew her coat tightly around herself and hailed a cab. She stepped inside and rattled off an address she hadn't thought of in months. She paid the driver and thanked him before stepping out in front of a small shop. It was the clothing shop that she and Molly had visited the day Jayne had been shot.

She opened the shop's door and entered, smiling at the bright, cheerful tone of the bell ringing as she stepped in. "Hello?" she called out softly. She was happy to see Margie come out of a back room. It took the older woman a moment before she recognized her.

"Oh! Hello, hello, dear! You're Molly's good friend, the one with the fashion sense. I'm quite surprised to see you're still here!" She said, bustling over and kissing Jayne on both cheeks.

Jayne smiled at the enthusiastic woman. "Yes, I didn't expect to be here for so long. I was wondering, if the position you offered so long ago is still open?"

Margie blinked in surprise. "Well, yes, dear. It is. Are you interested? It doesn't pay much, but you get employee discounts on anything in the store, plus an hour lunch break, a fifteen minute break for tea in the afternoon." Margie then named an amount of money that Jayne hadn't expected for a salary.

"When can I start?" Jayne asked, grinning.

Margie smiled at her and motioned Jayne back where Margie had been when Jayne entered the shop. Jayne was happily surprised to find that it was a two-room office/kitchen area. There was a small stove, sink, counters and even a microwave and table and chairs in the room farthest in the back. The front room was an office complete with desk, computer, and filing cabinets. Margie opened a drawer in the filing cabinet and pulled out some forms for Jayne to fill out.

Jayne bit her lip, and filled them out as well as she could, filling in her apartment number and her own cell phone number. "That's the best I can do for now, I'm not certain about some of the other information, being an American."

"That's fine dear, that's just fine. Now then, as far as starting, I'll let you have tomorrow off and the weekend so you can gear up for Monday. How does that sound?" Margie said, smiling kindly.

"Sounds fantastic, Miss Margie. I'll be here bright and early," Jayne replied, hugging the older woman who smiled and patted her cheek.

"Such a sweet girl you are," Margie said. "Now off with you, you'll be working yourself to a frazzle soon enough. Off you go!" Margie shooed Jayne out the door, both of them laughing.

Jayne hailed another cab and stopped for a few minutes to pick up some take-away from Angelo's. She entered her apartment and shut and locked the door behind her. Just as she was taking off her coat, there was a knock at the door. She rolled her eyes and opened the door.

Sherlock stood there clutching a handful of violets. He smiled at her and opened his mouth to speak. Jayne growled and slammed the door in his face. Sherlock sighed and frowned. He placed his hand on the door, looking sad, before he placed the small vase of violets on the floor in front of Jayne's door and walked upstairs to the apartment.

When he stumbled down the stairs in the morning, the violets were gone. He smiled, Jayne had taken them inside. Later in the day, he knocked on her door again. She opened it, her hair falling over her shoulder loose and wavy from her usual braid. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him, unspeaking. He held out a box of her favorite chocolates. Jayne rolled her eyes and slammed the door in his face.

But not before he saw the vase of violets on her coffee table. Sherlock grinned. He leaned the chocolates against her door and headed back upstairs. Halfway up, he heard her door squeak open softly and peered over the edge of the railing. Jayne picked up the box of chocolates and blushed, taking them inside and shutting the door again, locking it with a solid _snick of the lock. _

_Sunday morning was much the same, but very different all the same. Sherlock knocked on the door and Jayne opened it, still in a pair of pajama shorts and a spaghetti-strapped tank top. It was clear she had just gotten out of bed, and clear to Sherlock that she was not wearing anything underneath her top. She must have been chilled, he though, as her nipples pressed against the soft fabric, making Sherlock's mouth go dry._

_Jayne looked at Sherlock, seeing the color of his eyes deepen as he looked at her. She noticed the small pharmacy bag in his hand. "I picked up your thyroid medication," he said softly. He held it out to her and she took it from him. As she began to close the door, Sherlock reached out, gripping her wrist and making her gasp._

_"Jayne, I'm sorry. I-" he began. _

_"So am I, Sherlock. I'm sorry Irene Adler dragged you into her damn mess. I'm sorry Mycroft wasn't his usual brilliant self as far as figuring out her machinations. I'm sorry that you feel love is nothing more than a chemical disruption to your ordered life. But most of all, Sherlock, I'm sorry that I can't force the love I have for you out of my heart. I can't make the pain lessen from your words. You were so cold, Sherlock. I don't think you even realize how cold you were. But I think we both need time right now, Sherlock, time to decide what we want. Good day, Sherlock Holmes," Jayne said softly, shutting the door and locking it. _

_Sherlock stood there for a few minutes longer, placing his hands and forehead on the door. Dear God, what had he done?_


	40. Chapter 39

**Had this chapter written out and got such amazing reviews for the last chapter that I decided to give it to you early! I hope you all enjoy!**

**~J.**

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Jayne sat on the couch in John and Sherlock's apartment, clutching her mug of tea in her hands. John sat across from her in his chair, looking a bit uncomfortable. "I screwed up, John." Jayne said softly.

"What do you mean?" he asked, an eyebrow raised in surprise.

"I mean I really screwed up. I know how Sherlock is. I've watched him be absolutely brilliant solving crimes on the show I've told you about. I know you likely still don't believe me, but it's true. And I've spent months with the two of you. I know Sherlock has issues with emotion, sentiment, relationships. He doesn't understand them. I knew that and I let myself go completely overboard. He tried to apologize and I just kept slamming the door in his face. I feel like such a bitch." Jayne's voice was soft as she spoke, internally berating herself. She stared into her mug of tea as if it held the secrets of the universe.

"Yes, Sherlock can be cold, calculating and completely devoid of common sense some days. But Jayne, do you not realize how much he's changed since he met you?" John asked, looking at her.

Jayne's head snapped up. "What do you mean?"

"Jayne, dear, Sherlock looks at you. I mean, he watches you like you're a puzzle to solve, but one he can't figure out. It keeps him coming back again and again trying to figure you out. And no matter what, he isn't able to. Jayne, he's actually thoughtful around you. He's still Sherlock, yeah, but it's like you've worn down the edges a bit." John smiled at her.

"I think a lot of people see Sherlock and see only the brilliance. They don't really see the man underneath."

"I think you're right. A lot of people don't see the real Sherlock. But you have to admit, that's as much his fault as anybody's. He puts up that cool, calm, collected persona. And he's very, very good at that persona. He only dismantles it for a few people, Jayne. And he doesn't take it all the way down for anybody. I highly doubt he ever will. I don't know if he even knows how," John said, patting Jayne's hand gently. She smiled at him, though it trembled around the edges a bit.

Jayne sipped at her tea, thinking about what John had said. "I'm going to forgive him, you know," she said. Her inner fangirl, who'd been silent for a while, peeked out and started dancing around inside her head. Jayne had to bite back a smile at the thought.

John laughed. "I know. Knew you would anyways. You're too soft-hearted and kind not to. I'm not saying you don't have a temper a red-head would be proud of, but you're kind, Jayne. Maybe kinder than Sherlock deserves. I'm sure he'll probably hurt you again in the future. I just hope you can keep keeping in mind that Sherlock is Sherlock."

"I'll do my best," Jayne answered and sipped down the last of her tea, plunking the mug down on the table. "Don't suppose you know where he's hiding?" She asked.

"I think he said something about St. Bart's." John said, grabbing her mug and his and putting them in the kitchen sink. Jayne ran over and kissed him on the cheek, making him blush a little.

"See you later, John!" Jayne called out as she raced down the stairs, eager to forgive Sherlock. She reached inside her doorway and grabbed her light jacket, drawing it on and racing out to the street. She hailed a cab quickly and felt like she was going to bounce out of her skin the entire drive to St. Bart's. She practically flew down the hallways to the morgue.

She saw Molly up ahead and flagged her down. "Molly, is Sherlock here?"

Molly looked at her in surprise. She thought Sherlock had said something about Jayne was upset with him. "Y-yes. He's in the lab, looking at some slides."

Jayne grinned and kissed Molly on the cheek. "Thanks, Molls, I owe you supper!" she shouted back at the surprised woman as she raced down the hall towards Molly's lab. She reached the doorway and flung open the door, surprising Sherlock.

He stood and looked at her, Jayne caught some hint of emotion in his eyes. "Jayne, I-" he began before Jayne ran to him, threw her arms around him and kissed him. Staggered, but pleased to have her in his arms, Sherlock held her tightly, deepening the kiss until they were both panting for breath.

"Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?" he asked, looking down at her.

Jayne blushed, her inner fan girl going wild inside her head. "That was part of an apology. I'm so sorry, Sherlock. I behaved outrageously when you tried to give a sincere apology and I'm sorry I was such a bitch. I let my emotions take over a bit too much. And it was so sweet when you brought the flowers and the chocolates and when you brought me my thyroid meds, my heart felt like it was going to burst from wanting to make it better. I'm sorry," she said again, leaning up to kiss him, taking his face into her hands as she did.

He kissed her back, a small smile on his lips. "Jayne-" he began again before she cut him off again.

"Sherlock, I know you're not the emotional sort. That you hide them under lock and key. And not doing that, well, you wouldn't be Sherlock. I'm sorry that I didn't understand that as much as I thought I did."

"I don't know if I can be different, Jayne," he said softly. He was desperately afraid that he was going to lose her with those words.

"I don't want you to be different, Sherlock." She said sincerely. "I may gripe, whine and moan when you do something that I don't like, but I swear, Sherlock, I'll try to remember how hard it is for you. I promise I won't go bonkers again and ask you to be someone you're not. Because I like you, Sherlock, the way you are. Even if once in a while, I act like I want you to change, please don't, Sherlock."

"Jayne-" he started to speak again and she cut him off yet again.

"Please, Sherlock?"

"Dammit woman, if you'd shut up for two seconds, I'm trying to tell you that I'm sorry too! I never wanted to hurt you." he said, running his fingers through her hair, which she'd left loose today so that it flowed down her back like a waterfall of smooth satin.

Jayne just grinned up at him. He growled at her and leaned down to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck and returned the kiss until the loud clearing of a throat made them stop and look up. A very embarrassed Molly was there, Greg by her side. Greg was smirking at the two of them, Sherlock's arms wrapped around Jayne, Jayne's arms wrapped around the back of Sherlock's neck. Jayne's lips obviously red and bruised from Sherlock's kisses.

Jayne had the good grace to blush. "Oops." she said softly, making Molly dissolve into giggles and Greg chuckle. Sherlock merely kissed her softly and released her. Jayne sighed and unwound her arms from around Sherlock's neck and stepped back.

"So, what are we working on?" Jayne said, with a smile, trying to move on quickly from such a public display of affection. Sherlock handed her a slide with a piece of a paint chip on it. "Take a look," he said, pushing her toward a stool and microscope. Jayne smiled gleefully and slid the slide under the viewer.

"By the way, supper, tonight, my place." Jayne said, looking at all three of them. Sherlock sighed, but Molly and Greg nodded happily. While she looked at the slide, and Greg and Molly were talking, Sherlock came up behind Jayne. He placed his hands on her shoulders, massaging them gently while she looked at the odd color and texture of the paint chip. He leaned down over her shoulder and whispered in her ear. "You owe me a proper date."

Jayne gasped and looked back at him, he was smirking. "Are you serious?"

He crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. "I guess you are," she said, laughing softly. "Alright then, you make the plans, I'll be there." she said, turning back to the slide.

Sherlock dropped a kiss on the top of her head, much to Greg and Molly's amusement and Jayne's frustration. She reached out and smacked him on the arm. "Stop that, Sherlock. You're just trying to embarrass me!"

"Is it working?" he whispered in her ear.

"Keep on, see if you get that date!" she hissed, making him laugh. He slid the slide out from under the viewer, grabbed Jayne's arm and began to drag her from the room. "Laters!" he called out to Molly and Greg as they left.

"Where are we going, Sherlock?" Jayne asked as he hailed a cab.

"What did you observe about the paint chip, Jayne?" he asked, as people on the streets were passed by.

"It's obviously industrial paint, from the color and the thickness. Horrid color of gray-green really. Makes me think of hospitals, or a clinic." Jayne replied. "The texture was odd, there was some kind of orange flakes in it, like maybe it had been painted over some kind of other paint or perhaps brick or stucco of some kind."

"Yes." Sherlock said, as if waiting for her to realize something important.

"Another case?" she asked. "Another girl, like Jamie Andrews?"

He nodded, his mouth set and his eyes grim. "Selene Graham. Fifteen, like Jamie. Blonde, like Jamie. Dehydrated, but fed, on the same cheap Chinese food and pizza." Sherlock turned to Jayne. "Help me find him, Jayne. Help me find who's killing them."

Jayne took his hand. "It's not your fault, Sherlock. But you don't even have to ask. Of course I'll help nail the bastard."

Sherlock smiled and squeezed her hand. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

Jayne leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Anytime, Sherlock, anytime." she said, as the cab pulled up in front of 221B. _And so begins our next adventure, she thought, as she followed him into the building. _


	41. Chapter 40

**Just wanted to take a second to say Thank You! to all of you for your wonderful reviews. You are all amazing. Also, at the end of this chapter are recipes for some of the foods mentioned in this chapter. As soon as can find my recipe box...which has mysteriously gone missing...I will post the recipes for some of the meals that Jayne has made in past chapters. Hope you all are having a wonderful weekend!**

**~J.**

* * *

When they returned home, Sherlock headed up to his and John's apartment while Jayne entered her own. She put away her jacket and started to check the kitchen to see what she had to make for supper for everyone that evening. John had a date and would be eating out with his girl-of-the-evening. Jayne hoped they'd get along well, John needed someone special in his life.

Going through her cupboards and the refrigerator, she found everything to make lasagna and garlic bread. She was happy to even find lettuce, cucumbers and tomatoes for salad. With all the dairy in the lasagna, she knew she'd make an easy vinaigrette for the salad dressing. She looked at the clock, it was two hours before Molly got off and she and Greg would be coming over.

Jayne ran the water in the tap as hot as it would go and placed the lasagna noodles in a large baking dish and poured the hot water over them. She let them set for a while as she gathered the other ingredients for the lasagna. She grated cheese, browned and drained the ground beef, drained the spinach and sliced the mushrooms. She placed a layer of marinara sauce on the bottom of a baking dish and placed a layer of the now-flexible noodles over it. Jayne then placed layers of grated mozzarella cheese, browned beef, cottage cheese, spinach, mushrooms and more sauce over it, followed by more noodles and a continuing of the layers until it was topped off by a last layer of noodles, sauce and mozzarella cheese. She wrapped aluminum foil over the top of it and placed it in the oven to bake for an hour.

She peeled, seeded and sliced the cucumbers, and then diced the tomatoes, placing them in a colander and salting them lightly. She placed the colander over a bowl and put the cucumber and tomato mixture into the refrigerator for the salad for later. While the lasagna cooked, Jayne took the time to clean up the dishes she'd used, and then ran around the apartment cleaning and arranging boxes that she had yet to unpack. She was quite happy with the lovely shade of yellow that the wallpaper in the living room had turned out to be and she couldn't wait for the furniture that she'd ordered to arrive.

But for now, she dragged the large wooden table into the living room by the fireplace, putting four large straight-backed chairs around it. She dug through a box that Mrs. Hudson had given her, filled with linens for the small linen cupboard in the bathroom. She chuckled when she found a sunny yellow-gingham tablecloth and spread it over the table. She opened a box of lovely scallop-edged white dinner plates, their rims tipped in gold. They'd been a gift from Mycroft when they'd spoken about how her apartment was coming along and she'd said something about wanting to scour the local shops to find a set of dishes like her grandmother had owned. When they'd arrived a week later, Jayne had nearly cried and given Mycroft an enormous hug.

She placed tall glasses at the seats, then forks and knives. She debated on what to make for dessert, after all, every meal with friends called for dessert. She ran through a list in her head of what she had on hand and decided quickly on an easy refrigerator cheesecake. She whipped together powdered sugar, cream cheese, vanilla extract and the juice and zest of half of a lemon. She'd use the rest of the juice for lemonade later. She mixed it together until it was smooth; she melted 1/2 stick of butter and stirred it into graham cracker crumbs before pressing it into a pie tin. She poured the cheesecake filling into the crust and put it into the refrigerator to set for later. As she put it in the fridge, the timer on the oven dinged, and she removed the lasagna, leaving the foil on, and let it set.

She glanced at the clock, surprised to see there was only thirty minutes until Molly and Greg would arrive. She hopped into the shower to quickly was and then dressed in a long, loosely-draped royal blue dress that tied at the waist. It fell to her ankles and she debated wearing shoes, finally deciding on a pair of simple flats. She brushed her hair back and braided it to fall down her back in a straight line.

She walked back into the kitchen and quickly sliced the loaf of French bread in half, slathering it with a mixture of butter, salt and minced garlic before popping it into the oven to bake and brown. The doorbell rang and Jayne hurried to open it, smiling when she saw a bright-eyed Molly and a smiling Greg Lestrade beaming down at her. Molly threw herself into Jayne's arms and gave her a hug, which Jayne happily returned.

"I know I saw you earlier, Jayne, but oh! It's so good to see you!" Molly laughed. "And something smells delicious!"

"Yes, it does," Greg commented, also pulling Jayne into a hug. Jayne smiled, remembering how they'd all thought she was odd for wanting hugs every time they saw each other. But soon enough they got used to it and now it was almost like a rule: when you come to Jayne's, first thing's first, she gets a hug. Jayne hugged Greg back and took their light jackets. Spring was still a bit cool yet and summery weather had not fully arrived. As she hung them, there was another knock at the door and Jayne opened it to find Sherlock there, a bottle of wine in his hand.

Jayne grinned and reached up to kiss him. Jayne heard Molly's giggle and Greg's chuckle as she stepped back to let Sherlock in. "I think I like that better than hugs," Sherlock whispered as he stepped past her into the room, making Jayne blush. _I think I do too_, she thought.

Jayne took the wine from Sherlock, placing it on the counter and uncorking it so that it could breathe. She removed the foil from the lasagna and pulled the garlic bread from the oven. She sliced the bread into thick pieces and put them on a platter. She placed the lasagna on the table with the garlic bread before opening the refrigerator and taking out the tomatoes, cucumbers and a head of lettuce. She tore the lettuce into bite-sized pieces and tossed it with the cucumbers and tomatoes. In a small bowl, she mixed red wine vinegar, olive oil, a little Dijon mustard and salt and pepper for a simple vinaigrette for the salad before placing it on the table.

"Can you all handle wine in tumblers?" she asked, as she brought the wine in. She smiled as she saw them-the people she thought of as her family-sitting in their chairs, talking quietly. Molly and Greg called out yes, and Sherlock merely nodded. She poured the wine, and asked "Sherlock, could you serve the lasagna, please?"

He blinked for a second, but placed slices of the pasta dish on plates, passing them around to everyone, while Jayne handed out pieces of garlic bread and served salad to them. She, Molly and Greg said grace while Sherlock looked on, but Jayne noticed that he didn't roll his eyes this time. They ate, exchanging small talk, with an occasional input from Sherlock. They were all pleasantly full and Jayne stood to take their plates, and was surprised when Sherlock stood to help her. She grinned at him as he followed her into the kitchen.

He smiled back, taking the plates from her and putting them into the sink before placing his hands on her shoulders and kissing her softly. "You still owe me a date," he whispered, making her blush. She nodded to him and he kissed her cheek before walking back to the table. Jayne took out the cheesecake, and four small cake plates, she sliced the cheesecake and handed it around. She watched Sherlock out of the corner of her eye, knowing his love for sweets. When he took a bite and smiled, she grinned to herself, before taking her own first bite.

The evening was pleasant and Jayne was a little sad when Greg and Molly left. Sherlock kissed her on the cheek and headed upstairs to do some research. Jayne did the dishes, putting away the extra food, but preparing a plate to take to John later. When everything was put away, she dug her cell phone out of her purse to check her messages. She grinned when she saw one from Sherlock from a few moments ago:

**Come upstairs after you've changed into something more comfortable.**

**-SH**

Jayne sighed and wandered into her bathroom, yanking off her clothes and tossing them into the hamper. She turned the taps on to start her bath and while the tub filled, then clipped her hair up into a bun so that it wouldn't get soaked. She poured a little bubble bath into the tub and slipped into the hot water, letting it relax her with the scent of cucumber and cantaloupe. She soaked for about thirty minutes before climbing out, all pruney from the water. She dried herself off with one of the new fluffy towels she'd bought and wrapped it around herself as she walked into the bedroom.

Since it was late, she pulled on a pair of purple plaid sleep pants and a purple-pink-and-fuchsia tank top. She pulled soft white cotton socks onto her feet and padded upstairs to see Sherlock after shutting and locking her own door. She carried up the plate of food for John, and called out Sherlock's name as she entered.

"Here," he answered, sitting at the kitchen table, microscope out and peering down into it. Jayne put John's food in the refrigerator, careful not to touch what appeared to be a collection of miniature frogs hopping around in a plastic bag. _I don't even want to know_, she thought, shivering slightly. Frogs had always made her feel ill, since she'd had to dissect one in the eleventh grade. She shut the refrigerator door and tried to keep the images out of her head of tiny frogs splayed open for dissection.

"Jayne, take a look at this," Sherlock said, standing from his stool. Jayne took his place, peering down into the lens. "What do you see?" he asked.

"It's fibers of some kind, and there's pieces of what look like...is that skin, Sherlock?" she asked, her head jerking back. He nodded grimly. "The Selene Graham case?" she asked, saddened when he nodded again. "Tell me, please?" she asked him.

He sighed and leaned against the table. "Selene Graham, fifteen. High school student, she made good grades, all A's and B's. (Note: I know nothing about the British school/grading system, work with me here, lol.) She was yanked off a side street by a man, mid-forties, 6' 3", muscled, strong, according to witnesses. He was wearing black, and a black knit hat. It was night, made him harder to see. The van he hauled her into was nondescript, dark blue or black. Before anyone could get to her or had a chance to react, the guy was racing away. They found her three weeks later, dehydrated, drugs in her system, this time administered via needle to her arm. Like Jamie, she wasn't allowed to bathe, but her hands were clean."

Jayne bit her lip. "Do you want me to look over the file?" she asked softly.

Sherlock sighed and nodded. "Maybe you'll catch something I missed...again." he said, giving her a small smile. She took the file from him and looked through it. Once again, she saved the pictures for last, knowing it would haunt her tonight. The girl was pretty, pale blonde hair, green eyes open and staring. Needle tracks on her arm.

"Sherlock, was Selene a...an addict?" she asked, hating to ask because she knew it would remind him too much of himself. He nodded sharply.

"How'd you know?" he asked, his voice thick.

"The..the needle tracks in her arms...some were new, others were older, some were even scars where she'd torn the skin. "Heroin?"

He nodded again, looking away from her. Jayne stood and walked over to him, saddened when he wouldn't look at her. She took his face in her hands. "Sherlock, look at me," she said. His eyes flashed to hers then away again. "Sherlock!" This time his eyes held hers, and she saw pain there, and she longed to make it go away.

"Sherlock, you are not your past. It's called the past for a reason, you have moved beyond it. I know there are days you still feel that craving for it, for the oblivion it brought you. That's a perfectly normal reaction, we all have days where we want that calming, that comfort of something that makes us feel, if not better, then at least numb to pain and need. You are not weak for it, Sherlock."

He snorted. "Like you would know," he said softly. "You don't know the feel of it burning in your veins, feeling it pulse in time with your heartbeat. And then the sweetness of being so deep inside yourself that there's not outside stimuli. There is simply complete peace."

Jayne sighed and kissed him softly. "No, Sherlock. I do know. I know exactly how that feeling can be so persuasive. I know how close to addiction I came, Sherlock. To morphine, to pain killers after surgery. That oblivion is so sweet, especially at first. But then there's always the come-down, Sherlock. And that is one of the worst experiences I can remember, surpassing even being kidnapped by Jim Moriarty. Because it was something I chose, and something I had to give up. I was the one who had to destroy myself to get better. Do you think I don't remember coming down off the high of the morphine in the hospital after surgery? Ever single centimeter of my body itching? And yet, so many, many years later, there are still days I feel the need for that darkness, that sweet, blessed nothingness."

Sherlock grabbed her hand. "It's late. You need sleep," he said and began dragging her towards his bedroom.

"Sherlock, I have my own bed!" Jayne said, laughing as her feet slid along the wooden floorboards.

He yanked her into the room, making her stumble and ram into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her to hold her steady. "I know," he said, grinning down at her," but I like it better when you're in mine."

She smiled and reached up to run her hand lightly over his cheek. "Fine, but only if you get some rest too. I know you haven't slept for a couple of days."

He sighed and nodded, knowing she wouldn't take no for an answer. She climbed into his bed and pulled the blankets around her shoulders; his room was a bit chilled. She watched his shadow on the wall as he stripped out of his shirt and slid his trousers and underwear off. He slid into the bed behind her, and knowing she wouldn't be able to fall asleep unless he did, wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back against him. He nuzzled his face into her neck and listened as her breathing deepened and evened as sleep took her. He watched her for hours before succumbing to sleep himself as the sun was rising over the edge of the world outside the windows.

He awoke hours later, Jayne still in his arms. He blinked, disoriented for a moment before he realized his phone was ringing. He grabbed it before it could wake Jayne and answered. "This is Lestrade. Another girl's gone missing."

**Simple Lasagna**

2 jars marinara sauce

1 box lasagna noodles

1 16oz container cottage cheese or ricotta cheese

1 lb. ground beef, browned and drained

2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese

1 can spinach, drained (optional)

2 small cans mushrooms, drained

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Place lasagna noodles in a shallow baking dish, cover with hot water for ten minutes, drain and place between layers of parchment paper until used. Spread 1/2 cup marinara sauce on the bottom of a 13x9 baking dish. Place 3-4 noodles length-wise into the dish. Top with a layer of cottage cheese, beef, cheese, spinach and mushrooms, and another layer of sauce. Continue layering, finish with a layer of noodles, sauce and cheese. Wrap pan with aluminum foil, bake at 350 for one hour. Allow to sit, foil on, for thirty minutes to an hour to let lasagna set up properly. Serve and enjoy!

**Garlic Bread**

1 loaf French or Italian style bread

1 stick of butter, softened

1/8 tsp sea salt

2-3 cloves of garlic, minced.

In a small bowl, mix together butter, salt and garlic. Slice bread into half and spread with butter mixture. Bake at 350 degrees for eight to ten minutes until bread is toasted.

**Mustard Vinaigrette**

**2 tablespoons Red Wine Vinegar**

**1/2 tablespoon Dijon mustard**

**6 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil**

**dash of salt and pepper**

**In small bowl, mix together all ingredients, whisk until combined. If not using immediately, whisk before using as it will separate. **

**Lemon Refrigerator Cheesecake**

**2 8oz containers cream cheese**

**1 cup powdered sugar**

**1 tsp. Vanilla extract**

**Juice and zest of half a lemon**

**1 1/2 cups graham cracker crumbs**

**1/2 stick of butter, melted**

**In a bowl, mix graham cracker crumbs and butter, press into 9-inch pie tin. In a mixing bowl, combine cream cheese, sugar, vanilla, lemon juice and zest. Beat with an electric mixer for 3-4 minutes until combined and smooth. Pour into crust and refrigerate to set for 4-6 hours before serving.**


	42. Chapter 41

**You guys simply amaze me! I can't believe it, we are over 600 reviews for this story! Today's chapter is dedicated to my sister whose birthday is today!**

**~J.**

* * *

Sherlock reached over and shook Jayne's shoulder. "Jayne, wake up. Another girl's gone missing." Jayne jerked awake, her eyes flying open and wide. She threw the blankets back and slid out of bed, shivering at the coldness of the floor. "I'll be back, going to run downstairs and put some clothes on," she said through teeth that were chattering slightly. He nodded and moved to get dressed himself.

Jayne ran out of the apartment and downstairs to her own room. She threw open the wardrobe and pulled on a pair of sturdy, loose-fitting jeans, a heavy sweatshirt, and socks with a pair of shoes that would be comfortable walking in and easy to run in. You never knew which of those you'd be doing in Sherlock's company. She shoved her wallet into her pocket, brushed and braided her hair, and ran back upstairs to meet Sherlock.

She was surprised to see that he'd corralled John as well. John was sitting upright on one of the kitchen chairs, blinking his eyes sleepily. "So it's for sure, another one missing?" he asked Jayne, his face sad. He was just as affected as Jayne and Sherlock by these missing girls. Jayne nodded. "Greg called us himself. It's sure." John sighed and nodded, pouring a cup of coffee into a travel thermos.

"Her name's Caitlyn. Caitlyn Mays. Fifteen, blonde, blue-eyed. She fits the profile. She's been homeless for over a year. She was yanked off of the street into a dark blue or black van, assailant was large. Muscular, dressed in black with a black stocking cap pulled down over his face." Sherlock replied.

"Well then, let's go find out who this bastard is and stop him," John said, with a grimace as he sipped his hot coffee. Jayne nodded and turned to Sherlock. He nodded and the three of them bounded down the stairs to the street where a cab was waiting for them. "St. Bartholomew's," Sherlock told the driver and they were driving away.

When they arrived at the hospital, Greg was waiting for them at the entrance. He led the way back to the morgue and Molly was waiting for them there, a body on the metal table covered with a cloth. Jayne's hand sought out Sherlock's and he squeezed it comfortingly. Then he let go and stepped forward as Molly flipped back the sheet. "Selene Graham," Molly said and began to read off the girl's chart. Jayne stepped forward and looked the body over. Something caught her eye.

"Sherlock?"

"Hmm?"

"Look at this, I didn't notice it in the photographs. Her hands were taped. Somebody learned a lesson with Jamie Andrews, he kept Selene tied, probably to a chair or a bed, so that she couldn't get away. But the way the tape residue is left, he tied her multiple times. He probably cut her loose to use the bathroom and eat." Jayne said, shivering as she reached out to touch the dead girl's arm.

It was cold and stiff, and it took everything in Jayne to not drop it, back away and run for a bathroom to empty her stomach. She felt Sherlock's touch on the small of her back and she was able to breathe again. He looked down at her and knew she was having difficulties with this case, a first real taste of death. She'd seen the body of Jamie Andrews, had touched it to find the location of the injection of drugs. But this was different, she had made it personal after Jamie. She wanted to catch this son of a bitch as much as Sherlock did.

"Well spotted, Jayne," he whispered to her. She nodded and continued to look over the girl's body.

"Here too, Sherlock. Her ankles were tied as well. Wasn't able to see that in the photographs. He must have redressed her after he...after he killed her. I think...I think he might have kept them naked, or close to it. Less chance of them running, perhaps, or easier...access, maybe." She took a deep breath. "Fuck. I'll be right back." she said and walked out of the room. The door shut behind her and she leaned against the wall, sliding down it and placing her head between her knees as the world swam around her.

"Jayne?" Sherlock was suddenly standing in front of her, she could only see the shiny leather of his shoe-tips.

"Had to take a minute, Sherlock. I'm sorry," she apologized.

"Jayne, no. You're not used to this like John and I are. And I don't want you to be, honestly. John and I have both been in situations where we see bodies almost daily. John from being a soldier and a doctor and me, well, from curiosity mostly. I saw my first dissection of a body when I was fifteen. Why is it you can look at things like eyeballs in a microwave or thumbs in a refrigerator door, but a full body is making you feel so weak?" he wondered aloud.

She smiled weakly. "When it's a body part, I can disassociate myself, I suppose. I don't see the faces, I don't know if they were murdered or suicided or died of old age. But that girl in there? She was murdered. She had her life taken away. She's still a kid, Sherlock and it's so wrong. I want to find this next girl alive. I want to stop the son of a bitch who's been hurting these girls. I want to uphold the promise I made to Jamie Andrews to catch the bastard who killed her."

Sherlock nodded. "Use that, then. Use that to look past the little girl lying on a slab in the mortuary and use your knowledge and my observation skills and knowledge to find and put away this killer. Can you do that, Jayne?"

Jayne sighed and took a deep breath before nodding. Sherlock held his hand out to help her up and she took it. He pulled her to her feet and placed a kiss on the top of her head, making her chuckle. They walked, hand in hand, back into the mortuary and Jayne braced herself. She let go of his hand and stepped closer to the body, her eyes searching. She noticed a pattern of bruising along Selene's hip area. "Sherlock, look at this!" she called him over and motioned towards the bruising. "Molly, can you lift her a little, this pattern looks familiar.

Molly nodded and hurried to lift Selene's body half-up so that Selene could look at the bruises. "Sherlock, that looks familiar...wait, didn't you say something about a van with this last girl...Sherlock, doesn't this look like the pattern of metal ribs on the bottom of a vehicle floor?" He nodded in agreement.

Sherlock nodded to Molly. "I think that's all we can learn now from her." He nodded to Greg and grabbed Jayne's arm and motioned for John to follow.

"So now what, Sherlock?" John asked, as they walked the sidewalks away from the hospital.

Sherlock turned to Jayne and fished something out of his pocket. "Keep this on you, you may need it. This could be dangerous, Jayne. Do you understand?" he asked her.

Jayne nodded and was surprised when Sherlock pushed something cool and metallic into her hands. She looked down and gasped. It was the little pearl-handled revolver that Mycroft had given her months ago. "Where did you find this?" she whispered. It had gone missing after she'd thought about shooting Irene Adler with it for injecting Sherlock with the combination of drugs that first meeting at her townhouse.

He smirked at her. "Who do you think hid it in the first place?"

She smacked him on the arm. "Dammit, Sherlock. I was so mad when I thought I'd lost it because it was a gift from Mycroft. Don't do that to me!"

He grinned and kissed her forehead. She crossed her arms and glared at him. "A simple kiss is not going to get you out of trouble, buster. Next time you decide to make me think I've lost my mind, let me know, would ya?"

"So a simple kiss isn't going to get me out of trouble, huh?" he whispered to her, and she shook her head no. "Well then, guess it won't be simple," he grinned and yanked Jayne to him, kissing her deeply and dipping her slightly. When he pulled back, they were both gasping for breath.

"Yes, well, if you two lovebirds are done snogging in the middle of the sidewalk, can we get on with this?" John's dryly amused voice washed over them and Jayne blushed bright red.

Sherlock stood Jayne on her feet and took her elbow, as they walked along the streets. Jayne wondered what exactly Sherlock was looking for, he seemed to be watching every person along the street. She let her eyes flash over quickly, but saw nothing suspicious from anyone. But then something caught her eye. A large dark blue van sat on the side of the street. On it's side, in gold lettering, was the logo for a local homeless shelter. A group of volunteers were climbing out of the van, handing out Styrofoam containers holding a hot meal for any of those that wanted them.

"Sherlock," Jayne whispered. He looked at her questioningly. "Sherlock, you said the van the girl disappeared from, dark blue, maybe black. Look over there, Sherlock. Dark blue van, I know they said there were no markings, though. But can we follow them, Sherlock? Something just seems ...off."

He seemed to debate it for a moment, but nodded. "Stay here with John, I'll be right back."

John and Jayne waited while Sherlock wandered over to the van, and started speaking to one of the volunteers. Fifteen minutes later they returned. "Told them that we'd been thinking of volunteering. Basically, the older gent there," he said, pointing at an older man who was instructing the younger volunteers, "said that they're out three times a week, their base is the Hopewell Shelter."

"I think we need to check that place out, Sherlock," Jayne said quietly. John nodded in agreement. Sherlock hails a taxi and the three of them climb in, Sherlock giving the address for the Hopewell Shelter. As Jayne stared out the window, the weather seemed to match her mood, because it began to rain from deep, dark, grey clouds.

When they arrived and explained about wanting to volunteer, they were greeted by an older woman named Helen who showed them around the facilities. "We've been here for almost thirty years," she beamed, showing them the large kitchen and dining area, the dormitories with separate men and women's dorm rooms, and a common area with a television and three older computers. "We want them to feel at home here, so they can check emails, type up letters to family members, watch television and play games. We mostly house women and children and teenagers here." Jayne was pleased to see that there was even a small library and play area for younger children.

They continued walking the hallways, Helen pointing out various rooms and areas. "What's that room there?" Jayne asked, pointing to a door that had a sign over it saying "Closed."

"That was the clinic. A lot of shelters like ours used to have them, but most have been closed down now. Just too many things that could go wrong in a setting where so many people are constantly coming and going all times of the day and night. We couldn't have someone watching the clinic 24/7, so we had to close it.," Helen explained.

Jayne's eyes flashed to Sherlock and he nodded, understanding what she wanted him to do. The paint that they'd found at the scene of the crime for Jamie Andrews and on Selene Graham's bodies had been industrial paint similar to what they'd seen already on some of the walls here, just a different color. So Jayne and John grabbed Helen's arms and asked her about different parts of the dormitories while Sherlock broke into the clinic room to see what he could find.

Forty minutes later, Sherlock appeared, and wasn't terribly surprised in the least to find Jayne sitting on a chair surrounded by a group of young children, reading a book to them. He stood beside John and watched, an amused smile on his face as he listened to Jayne reading the story, her voice changing for each character as she read. "She's kind of amazing, isn't she?" John whispered to him, and Sherlock could only nod.

Jayne's eyes flashed up and caught Sherlock's and she grinned at him. A little boy was perched on her knee, holding the book open so the other children could see it, as Jayne read it upside down. Every once in a while, her knee bounced, making the little boy, who was maybe four, laugh and clutch at Jayne's arm. When the book was finally finished, the children were clamoring for just one more. "Aww, I'm sorry, guys. But I have to go now. Maybe next time I come, ok?" They nodded and scampered off, all except the little boy who'd been perched on Jayne's lap.

The little boy gripped her sleeve and tugged on it. Jayne smiled down at him. "Hi Simon." He grinned bashfully up at her and beckoned her down to his level. She smiled as she got down on her knees to be at his eye level. "You're pretty!" he whispered in her ear and then kissed her cheek before taking off with his slightly older brother.

Jayne blushed and stood, dusting off the knees of her jeans. She wandered over to Sherlock who wrapped his arm around her waist. "I think you have competition," John snickered. Sherlock glared at him and Jayne laughed. She reached up and patted Sherlock's cheek gently. "Not even," she grinned at him.

Sherlock motioned for them to go, and they walked to the street. John hailed the cab this time and they clambered inside. "What did you find?" Jayne blurted out. He raised an eyebrow at her before smiling. He pulled a small clear jar from his pocket. There were paint chips inside.

"You were right that it's the type of paint for, but there wasn't any of the same color as we found. But I honestly think you're on the right track, Jayne. I think it may be someone working at a shelter with an attached clinic. We need to find the shelters these girls frequented." Sherlock shouted at the driver to pull over for a moment, and Jayne whipped out a handful of pound notes and handed them to Sherlock. He nodded and took them before stepped out to the corner where a young woman was panhandling. They nodded to each other and Sherlock returned to the cab.

"I think we need to get back to the flat, and do some research," Jayne said softly.

John nodded and said simply, "We'll find her, Jayne."

Jayne nodded and sighed, leaning against the warmth of Sherlock's shoulder. "Yes, but will it be soon enough, John?" Neither Sherlock or John had an answer, so Sherlock wrapped an arm around her and hoped that it would be soon enough.


End file.
